


Wild Heart

by HadenXCharm



Category: Bleach
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Animal Traits, Crime Drama, Dubious Science, Dystopia, Falling In Love, M/M, Selectively Mute Character, Tragic Romance, cop!grimmjow, dystopia in which everything is the same except human-animal hybrids exist, neko, tiger!renji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-06-10 08:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 71,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15287688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HadenXCharm/pseuds/HadenXCharm
Summary: The thing is muzzled, chained up and hunched away, shoved into the corner of a metal cage. The eyes are wide and blind — scared, furious,burning.The eyes of a wild animal.Ichigo gets dragged into a real mess when Grimmjow asks him to shelter an exotic neko at his house.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. Idk about you, but in the old days, neko aus were super popular. I’ve read a shitton of them, but if i remember, they were all written rather poorly, used the same tropes, mediocre plot that went nowhere, and I don’t think I’ve ever read one that was completed. 
> 
> Allow me to remedy that.

 

A long time ago, many stories were written. Maybe you even remember seeing one yourself. They were greatly loved, rarely finished, and full of pretty boys with ears and tails.    

 

        Yeah. This is one of those.

 

 . . .

 

 

          “You look kind of glum.”  
  


Ichigo looks up across the cafe table at his friend Rukia and shrugs — _glumly._

“I dunno’,” he replies, taking his hand away from where he’d been resting his cheek on it and staring out the front window at the street.    “Not really.”  
  
Rukia gave him a skeptical look, at which he amended, “Okay, fine. I dunno’. Just kinda’ down. It’s not like anything’s actually wrong, so.”

_— so I don’t deserve to be unhappy,_ is what he means to say, but he stops there because he doesn’t really want to talk about this. But really, he’d already lost his chance to let the matter drop in saying that much.

“I guess I’ve just got that weird feeling,” he says, because he has to say _something_ otherwise she’s not going to let it rest. “What do you call it… _On-wee?”_

“Are you talking about ennui?” Rukia said, barely holding back a snort of amusement. Ichigo pointed, because yeah that.

“Yeah.” He let out a sigh. “Ugh, I dunno’. Meh’.” He shrugged.

He’s been doing that a lot lately. He put it down to boredom, a general dissatisfaction with a life that for all accounts, is a pretty okay life.

Ichigo’s a regular guy who lives alone, goes to work, sees his friends, but he’s rarely in a good mood, rarely has a smile on his face. He could reasonably be described as a lonesome person, but he’d just shrug his shoulders vaguely.  

He’s got no excuse to be sad. There’s plenty of other people out there who’ve got it much worse. It’d be selfish to complain — which is why he tries to shut up about it when he gets like this. He’s fine, really. He’s not exactly suffering, he just isn’t… _happy._

His life’s pretty okay, but lately he feels so flat.

Usually his mood improves if something out of the ordinary happens. It doesn’t even have to be something good. It can be troublesome; annoying even. As long as it breaks the monotony and takes him out of himself, during that time he can’t focus on that feeling of discontent.

One might say he enjoys a bit of excitement in his life, but Ichigo never goes looking for it. He doesn’t have to. It always ends up happening on its own sooner or later. He’s just going through a rough patch.

For once, it’s no mystery as to why. He always gets particularly bad around this time of year. He lives in Kansai, meaning that the Obon festival falls on his birthday — and how can he be expected to enjoy his birthday when it coincidences with a holiday that obliges him and his family to go visit and clean his mother’s grave.

Inevitably, he dwells on her loss, and it ends up being an awful day, not a marking of his age but rather, the amount of years since he’d last seen her face. How can he celebrate anything on a day like that.

With it, always comes this vague, murky, dissatisfied feeling that he can’t eliminate, only manage and ignore — his friends can tell when he’s worse than usual, but they don’t know how to help him. It’s hard to even explain it to others, so he’s largely left to his own devices more often than not.

It’s like moving through a fog. He just can’t see where he’s going, can’t imagine the future, can’t remember not feeling like this — but he’s gotten this far, and he’ll keep going. There’s no point burdening others with something that can’t be helped.

“It’s whatever,” he muttered, forcing a grimace of a smile when Rukia narrowed her eyes like a hawk. “Lately, just… it just feels like the same-old same-old, y’know?” he tried, because that’s all he can really say to explain himself.

Boredom — of sorts. He has no energy to get enthusiastic about anything, he does not derive joy in any ordinary aspect of life. He cannot muster any interest to try anything new. When he thinks about it, he feels self-centered.

_‘Depression,’_ Rukia had once called it when he’d put it to her in those terms, but Ichigo had immediately recoiled from the idea, not accepting it.  
  


“So,” he muttered defensively, “So it’s not really that big of a deal. Just in a slump.”

Rukia hummed a little, putting a finger to her lips. “Maybe you should get a pet.”  
  


  
     Ichigo snorted. “Heh.”  


 

 

 

As he walked home after his commute, he got a phone call. He slipped it out of his pocket, checked the screen, and immediately sighed, eyes to the sky. It’s Grimmjow.  
  
As always, with a general air of _‘I’m going to regret this,’_ he picked up.  
  
“Yeah?” he greeted warily.

“Kurosaki,” is all he got, voice gruff and constantly containing that edge to it that made him sound like he wanted to start a fight.

“Yeah.”

Begrudgingly, as if it greatly pained him, Grimmjow said shortly, “I need you to do me a favor.” 

        “Fuck,” Ichigo muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm, mystery favor? No guesses as to what _that_ could be.


	2. Chapter 2

    Ichigo and Grimmjow have a complicated relationship.  
  


Ichigo’s a decent normal guy, and is a law-abiding citizen — to which Grimmjow is kind of the antithesis. He’s pretty far from what Ichigo would normally seek out in a friend.

He’s rude, mean, aggressive, quick to anger and quicker to violence. He’s an ass to strangers, to the people he associates with regularly, and half the time, he’s kind of fucking _awful_ to Ichigo too. It’s hard to pick out his redeeming qualities, because even when he’s nice, he still has to be shitty somehow and ruin whatever kind gesture he was trying to make. Ichigo constantly asks himself why the fuck he goes on with this guy, why he bothers, because he’s a nightmare to deal with anytime he does anything, honestly.

He can be funny, and he’s annoyingly somewhat protective — read: _possessive —_ over Ichigo, but most importantly, he is probably the only person he knows who can be relied on to chase away the _ennui_ feeling.

Grimmjow is a human tornado, and being around him is a one way ticket to getting sucked into the disaster radius yourself. It always runs the risk of driving your life into the fucking ground, it’s stupid, but invariably _exciting._  
  
Again, that isn’t necessarily a good thing — because exciting doesn’t mean _good._ The methods Grimmjow employs to eliminate Ichigo’s numbing dissatisfaction with life are usually illegal or highly dangerous, and even though that kind of stuff will definitely eliminate his boredom, that doesn’t mean it’s _fun._

But every fucking time things turn out bad and he’s left fucking furious and cursing up and down that he’s never going to hang out with him again, the maniac — every fucking time he somehow ends up being sucked back in and then _torn up again_ like a farmhouse in Kansas.

None of his other friends like Grimmjow, and Ichigo’s asked himself since why he keeps associating with Grimmjow, but really, he knows the reason. He’s pretty sure that part of the reason is because, again, he has this innate desire for excitement — which goes hand in hand with what he realizes must be a self-destructive tendency, because that’s what tornadoes do is _destroy_ shit.

— and Grimmjow never just causes excitement; he also causes a lot of fucking _trouble._    

It’s not like Ichigo hadn’t known what he was signing up for, being a friend to someone like Grimmjow. He knows the guy is into a lot of questionable shit — Ichigo doesn’t trouble himself with this much anymore. It had used to keep him up at night, so to speak, to associate with a guy whose morality was very squarely in the _grey,_  but he doesn’t bother with it now, because it’s not like he can change him. Ichigo thinks of him as a guy who isn’t necessarily bad, but who does bad things sometimes. He’s completely given up trying to stop him, only able to accept it on his conscience because he doesn’t participate himself.

Thankfully, despite having literally zero respect for anything at any time ever, Grimmjow knows Ichigo's boundaries well enough that he usually doesn’t directly involve him in whatever hijinks he gets up to, at the very least. The downside is, when they’re together, stuff inevitably happens anyway, because Grimmjow causes fights everywhere he goes — _tornado._

Ichigo’s always suspected he’s into heavy drugs, or at least selling them, because he’s got that smell to him. Also, he’s almost positive that he’s in the mob, just because of the general attitude he has, this aura he has about him, like a big cat, relaxed but deadly. Grimmjow behaves in a way that lets one know immediately that he’s a dangerous man — and he has a weird tattoo, and weird _‘friends’_ that he refuses to call friends but still continues to associate with regularly. So of course, Ichigo is convinced that he’s in a gang.

Further evidence is that he’s gotten into trouble before. A notable incident involved stealing a motorcycle, stacking it with explosives, and then letting it drive off a suspension bridge. Of course, there’s also lots of drinking, fights, and public vulgarity — and that’s just the stuff that he’s been caught for _that Ichigo knows about._ Who knows what his real rap sheet looks like.

They’re buds. They are. They have this weird relationship that Grimmjow won’t admit is a friendship, but definitely _is,_ because what the fuck else is it — they hang out on occasion and Grimmjow takes him places to try and show him a good time, and they get up to no good, but otherwise? . . .

Honestly, Ichigo doesn’t know a lot about him. Hardly anything, in fact.

He thinks of Grimmjow in the way he thinks of men in black suits in spy thrillers who disappear early in the film and then reappear later, and you never find out exactly what they were doing — Grimmjow goes in and out of his life in that way, sometimes not turning up for whole months at a time, never offering an explanation when he’s suddenly back. Ichigo never asks.

They don’t share confidences like normal friends do, and in a way, they use each other. Ichigo leeches off of that tireless energy and Grimmjow must derive some benefit from being around him, because he keeps coming back despite complaining that Ichigo flies too straight and never does anything he’s not supposed to. Ichigo suspects that Grimmjow’s life is so crazy that sometimes he needs him to feel steady, needs that one person in the world who’s always there no matter what he pulls. They lean on each other that way, this unspoken thing.

But he doesn’t know where he lives, if he has any family, or why Grimmjow insists that he hates him _even though it’s obvious he does not._

Most of all, Ichigo has no idea what Grimmjow does in his spare time.  


     Until now.

 

Thing is, Grimmjow rarely calls in favors, and when he does, it’s completely unreasonable shit that Ichigo turns down flat and then later agrees to and then _later regrets._

This one is going to be the worst by far, and he can tell because after he’d called it in, Grimmjow had told him that it’d be better to explain it in person, so he’d come over — and now Grimmjow is _in his goddamn house_ and they’re sitting around his kitchen table in the dark with beers, and really, it’s his own fault for choosing to be friends with a complete and total maniac, he must hate himself on some level, because he keeps fucking doing this.

Grimmjow takes a breath once he’s downed a beer, and Ichigo can’t believe this is his life.

“Once I tell you this, you can’t tell another goddamn soul, or I’ll blow a cap in your ass,” he began, which really, wasn’t a sign of good things to come.

Trying to stop this before it starts by saying something sensible like _‘I don’t want to know,’_ was inherently futile — so Ichigo suffered, and groaned, “What is it.”

“So. You may have realized that I do a lot of shit on the DL,” Grimmjow said unnecessarily, because yes, he’s realized, what the fuck.

“Do you mean: you’re a criminal that I’m probably technically an accomplice for at this point?” Ichigo droned, gulping some beer, because he’s accepted his doom.  
  
“Fuck you, no,” Grimmjow snapped, but Ichigo doesn’t react, because he’s somehow _less_ menacing in the dark. That spark of rage that really gives him his air of intimidation loses its effect in his shitty little kitchen. “I’m sort of an undercover cop, which is how I get away with the shit I do.”    

“What.”

“The fuck do you mean, _what.”_  
  
“. . . What even.” Ichigo stared at him, not really reacting much because it sounds too far-fetched, even for Grimmjow. His idea of him as spy-agent or brooding villain who disappears to do _something_ — is he saying that it’s actually _true?_  

What… the fuck?

Indignantly, Grimmjow explained, hot and inept, “Just what I fucking _said,_ I’m undercover, now you know, you’d better not say shit or I’m fucked — an’ then I’ll beat your ass.”  
  


“Huh.” Ichigo stared at Grimmjow with a confused frown creasing his brow.  
  


“That’s all you can fucking say?”  
  


“... The police force has really lowered their standards—”  
  


“Fuck you, you absolute _fuck.”_  
  


“You’re really serious,” Ichigo realized, and put a hand to his brow, because _okay, wow_ — and as he always does with Grimmjow’s craziness, he accepts this new development much more quickly than should be possible, simply because he’s used to it at this point and has learned it’s the only way to survive around him.

What concerns him is that he knows Grimmjow never gives away personal information unnecessarily — meaning, he’s telling him this for a reason, and it’s probably not a good one.   “Why are you telling me this.”

“I’ve got a big job. Like, fucking huge,” Grimmjow said, and shit, he can see where this is going, “— and I need a favor so that I can complete it.”  
  


“A favor.”  
  


“Yeah.”  
  


“From me.”  
  


Grimmjow grinds his teeth, but admits at length, _“Yes._ Fuck.”

Ichigo rubbed at his brow, mushing around the muscles there, because _ahh, god._     

“Okay what. Drug smuggling, human trafficking?” he tried to guess, rattling off the worst ones first, just to get them out of the way. “You’re gonna’ try and take down a yakuza faction?”

“No,” Grimmjow said, then paused for a second, considering. “Well—” Ichigo put his head in his hand, and Grimmjow amended, “No.”  He leaned onto his forearms, a fingertip pressing into the table as he told him conspiratorially, “I need you to hide something at your house.”

Ichigo’s already fucking _done_ when he hears that, because there’s no good _something_ that an undercover cop asks you to _hide_ at your house.  
  


And then it’s a million times worse, because Grimmjow adds: “A neko.”  
  


“What the fuck?” Ichigo says louder, so blown away that all he can do is sit there and stare at him for a second. “Grimmjow. Seriously?”

He raised a hand before he could feed him anymore bullshit and said, “You know this is _really illegal,_ right? Like, go to prison for _life_ illegal.”

“The fuck do you mean, do I _know,_ of course I know—”

“Look,” Ichigo cut through, because he doesn’t want to hear any nonsense explanation for why he’d asked him, why he has to get involved, and for all that Ichigo usually fiercely refuses and then eventually ends up falling into it anyways, he’s not having it this time.

“You’re undercover, you’re allowed to do questionable shit to achieve your goal, so get some questionable dude.”

“Like _shit_ I’ll get someone else,” Grimmjow protested indignantly. “I need you — I know you’re a straight arrow, so that’s why I need you.”  
  
“So you can fuck up my life?”

“No one’ll suspect you. You’re so...” Grimmjow just gestured at him with vague disdain, like that explained dick. “Y’know, it’s you.”  

Ichigo knows what he means, knows that Grimmjow doesn’t have anyone else in his life that’s like him, and that’s what he’s really saying — _‘Straight-laced, unassuming, good-hearted,_ soft—’

“Yeah, I want no part a’ this,” Ichigo refused bluntly, but Grimmjow clearly wasn’t going to let it drop, and Ichigo just drinks because he knows he’s going to get him involved like he always does, _tornado,_ and that means his life’s up the spout, _neko trafficking, what the shit—_

And that’s when he says: “I’ll make it worth your while.”  
  
Ichigo just narrowed his eyes and blinked at him for a full couple seconds, incredulous. _“How?”_ he said incredulously, “How can you _possibly_ make this worth my while.”  
  
“What, so you’re gonna’ say no?” Grimmjow accused, throwing a hand up and letting it slap on the tabletop, as if to say, _‘I can’t believe how useless you are.’_

Well guess what, Ichigo doesn’t give a good goddamn — except he sort of does, because the ennui.

“I dunno’ Grimm,” he sighed, exhausted, fucking hell, “I could get in a lot of trouble for this.” He rolled his eyes and drank some more beer. “Even the fact that you’ve told me about this, I could get in trouble if I don’t tell the cops.”  
  


“But you won’t,” he said, and it’s confident, and so goddamn smug.  
  
“... No,” he agreed at length, somewhat resentful.  
  


“It’ll be fine,” Grimmjow waved off in that careless way people who get away with too much too often do. “I’ll tell you what to do at every step so even a loser like you can’t fuck things up.”  
  
“Look, I—” He lets out a long huff and gave him another incredulous stare, because serious, “Grimmjow. _Neko trafficking?”_

“It’s fucked up,” Grimmjow agreed, face set with a somber glare. “But that’s what happens when an illegal commodity is created that only the super-rich can afford. A black market appears immediately. A powerful one.” Ichigo put a hand to his eyes, but Grimmjow just kept going anyways.

“It’s even more enticing than human trafficking because they’re so fucking rare — they’re kept and used like you would use dogs in a dogfight, or else they’re kept as exotic pets.” Ichigo met his eyes, cold and pinched as always, but lit with a righteous fury.

“It’s fucked up, and it’s _really lucrative,”_ he finished. “We’re trying to bust some people really high up — and rescue the animals.” Looking to the side, he grumbled, “They were never meant to fall into the hands of those bastards.”

After all that, as always, _damnit,_ Ichigo was half-convinced, because it’s Grimmjow, and this always happens. He always gets sucked in.

“What exactly do I have to do,” he asked cautiously, like he didn’t intend to agree, like he was asking for other reasons — _for science._

Truth be told, he’s already imagining something like he’s seen on TV, some housecat, a tabby neko with brown ears and big eyes, sweet and friendly, kept as the pet of some gross horrible rich man — and Grimmjow knew how to play to his weaknesses, because he does feel some guilt already in saying no. He _does_ want to help, would do so gladly if it weren’t so dangerous.  
  
  
And then Grimmjow drops the next bomb.  “We found a tiger that survived to adulthood.”  
  
  
Ichigo doesn’t even bother coming up with some sarcastic remark, just stares — _stares_ , gapes at him, because _are you shitting_ _me, you motherfucker, are you asking me what I think you’re asking—_

Grimmjow sits back in his chair, arms crossed, boot tapping the leg of the table erratically. With an agitated scowl, he went on. “Was meant as a pet, but it’s a _fucking tiger_ and the dickbrain of an owner wasn’t prepared to handle it once it got too big,” he sneered, and Ichigo agreed, exotic pet owners are bad people, if you really loved the animal, you’d know it belongs in the wild and not as a trophy to show off how _cool_ you are—

“It ended up in one of those underground facilities that takes care of them and then sells them off — someone bought it about five years back and has kept it since then.” Ichigo listens, and it’s a tour through a revolting world that he hadn’t wanted to peel the covers back on, hadn’t wanted to see the underneath. But that’s what he signed up for with Grimmjow. Grimmjow lives and breathes _the underneath._  
  
“It’s an adult male and it wasn’t bred in captivity, so it’s aggressive even though it was captured young. It’s not safe to be handled. Shouldn’t have been sold. Meaning — it’s spent its life as a pet chained up every _fucking_ hour of the day.”

“Fuck,” Ichigo finally said aloud, and now he’s imagining an animal in a cage, feral and vicious, continuously pacing from one side to the other and snarling at any hand extended to it — _hating its prisoners so bitterly that if it were ever let free, it would maim and kill them the moment it gets the chance, because it is smart enough to understand what revenge is—_  
  


“So… So they’re gonna’ put it down?” he wondered, following this to its logical conclusion. Grimmjow needed to save it, so it must be especially badly treated, or about to be euthanized. “They’re gonna’ get rid of it because it’s too wild?”

“No.” Carefully calm, Grimmjow looked off, picking his teeth with his tongue, face twisted up in rage. “They knew when they bought it. And they kept it,” he said shortly.

“...” Ichigo stared, sitting back in his chair numbly.

“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s worse,” Grimmjow muttered darkly. “I’ll fill you in on the details later. Point is, we’ve located it and it has to be moved — but it’s risky.” He explained, “We’ve made offers to the owner before, y’know, pretending to be a buyer, but he won’t fucking sell, so we’ve gotta’ do this the hard way. Y’know, go in and rescue it.”

“Shit,” Ichigo whispered, pushing his hair back. This was really serious.  
  
“I need you to shelter the big guy for a bit until we can find a way to get it overseas to safety,” Grimmjow summed up.

Ichigo pondered this for a second, then wondered with a frown, “It needs to be sheltered in some top-secret location like _my apartment?”_ Grimmjow shrugged, muttering that no one will suspect, he’s so ordinary.  “What, you think the owner’ll come after it?”

“They’re worth billions, _yes,_ he’ll fucking come after it,” he snapped. “But if we can get it to a safe place, it’ll be unreachable. There’s sanctuaries in Scandinavia that’ll rehabilitate it, y’know, take care of it until the end of its life. The bastard won’t be able to get it back once it’s there,” he said, folding his arms in satisfaction.

Ichigo sat and considered all this for some time. “A tiger?” he said at last, and then repeated derisively — “A tiger” — because obviously this fucking shit would go on, it’s Grimmjow. “You’re smuggling exotic neko. Ah, fuck me,” he groaned, putting his head in his hands.  
  
“I’m trying to fucking _stop_ the smugglers,” Grimmjow shouted defensively, “I can do good things!”  Ichigo lifted his head then, because that was fucking suspicious, Grimmjow did _not_ do good things, why hadn’t he wondered this before — Grimmjow clammed up immediately, not helping his case.  
  


“Only if it’s in your interest,” Ichigo pinpointed, eyes narrowed. “What’s in it for you?”  
  


“I like cats, sue me.”  
  
  
_“Grimmjow.”_  
  


“Yeah look, whatever,” he brushed off, “I’ll give you everything you need. You just have to keep it sedated, feed it, keep it in the house, and no one finds out. I’ll come pick him up, you never have to deal with this again. Done.”     

“This is shady as fuck,” Ichigo muttered.

“But you’re gonna’ help, aren’t you.”

“Why’re you so sure,” Ichigo growled, because this _shit_ knows what he’s doing, he knows he’s going to get what he wants.  
  
  
“‘Cuz you love excitement—”       _Fuck._     “—It’s why you’re friends with me.” Grimmjow smirked, the dick.  
  
“Fuck you, bastard,” Ichigo scowled.  
  


Grimmjow leaned back, arms folded, smirking with a sparkling eye. “But no. You’ll help,” he said with the confidence of a man who’s used to getting his way and knows he will again.

And the final blow is when his smirk softens just a tiny bit — really, it’s miniscule, and he says, “You’ll help because that’s who you are.”

“...” Ichigo just sat there and glared daggers at him, because mother- _fucker._

  
“Why didn’t you ever join the force yourself?”  
  


Ichigo sighed through his nose, because honestly, it had crossed his mind in that time of life when one chooses their career path — it would’ve made sense. That’s his namesake right there, a protector, and what better way to live up to it than becoming a police officer.

Except it didn’t feel right for one very important reason which he’d eventually realized after reflecting upon his mother’s death, because in the aftermath — despite their failure to revive her — his heroes in that moment had been the paramedics. The police were there to cord off the scene of the accident, minimize the damage and the panic, but they hadn’t been there to save Ichigo, they weren’t the ones who had the power to bring his mom back to him.  


“The bad guy stabs a man…” He put his hand to his eyes, rubbed his brow. “The cop catches the bad guy. The doctor saves the man’s life.”  


“Hm.” Grimmjow gave a nod, the closest thing Ichigo had ever gotten to respect from him, because usually Grimmjow scorns that kind of drivel, thinks it’s too soft.

“You gonna’ help me then?”

“Fine,” Ichigo relented. “But only ‘cause I like animals.”

And he actually says, “Thanks,” and Ichigo knows he’s fucking doomed by that look in his eye, the look he gets when he’s started a barfight and is facing the oncoming horde and instead of retreating just _smiles_ and breaks a fucking bottle on the countertop.

He’s ready to _go_ and Ichigo is along for the ride yet again, caught in the whirlwind — and how the fuck is this his life.

  
    “I’ll keep you posted.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boi has no self-preservation


	3. Chapter 3

        It is illegal for anyone but a scientist or a licensed caregiver to own or interact with a neko — but of course, that’s only how the law is on paper.  
  


As things go, they fell into the hands of the mega-rich almost immediately, people so wealthy that they were virtually untouchable by the law. In those circles, neko were quite common as pets, and weren’t kept a secret. What was the point in hiding them when there were no repercussions for owning one — if you’re rich enough, you get away with that kind of shit, and can easily show off a rare and fantastic example of human scientific engineering as a trophy without facing jailtime.

That being said, there are a lot of media representations of neko. Real ones are seen on TV on the red carpet, holding the arm of their owner, humans standing in as neko appear in drama shows and soaps, and they are depicted one of two ways. Very rarely, they are sensationalized and shown as a rabid animal gone feral, used as an easy villain to be defeated by the hero, but they are almost invariably placed into the role of pet to another character. As it was, it was a fairly loyal representation of the true nature of neko — the silent animal servant.

They are very gentle, loyal, and loving pets, and they appear in a shitton of television shows, because they’re a fun gag to add to a storyline, despite being illegal for regular people in the real world. Since they don’t talk and all have the same temperament generally, to give certain characters extra personality, sometimes they’re shown to be nymphomaniacs — and most often, they were idiots, cute and clueless, helpless without their human guardian.

Ichigo’s been watching them on TV since he was a little boy, but he’s only ever seen one in person once in his whole life, and it wasn’t a good memory.

Housecats are the most common, with rabbits at a close second, vastly outnumbering every other type to the point where anything other than a cat or a rabbit was considered anywhere from out of the ordinary to incredibly rare.

This is because, back in the beginning, while many species of animal had been attempted, cats had turned out to be the easiest to engineer — for some reason they were the hardiest and had survived the rigorous and lengthy experimentation process the best. They and those that came after them all shared the name 'neko’ for this reason, whether or not they were actually cats.

Ichigo’s read some pieces about the process and creation, even some scholarly articles, but the neko has become something more than a scientific achievement. Even laying aside the numerous TV appearances, there’s no dearth of material to be had for the masses to enjoy — there were tons of manga and books depicting them, the perfect element to add to one’s fantasy world. Despite not being available to the public, there’s a general image of neko that is similar to the idea of an A.I. servant, there to be silent and stand at your side, although they were more of a cute pet than a robot. Honestly? Ichigo likes them. It’s impossible not to — they’re docile, sweet, obedient, _loveable._

But those are the domesticated breeds. The one being shipped to him is not going to be a housecat like the ones he’s grown up seeing on television, it won’t be a cute scared neko that’s being rescued from a mean owner, one he can pet and comfort and play with — _He’s getting a vicious jungle beast.  
_  
Wild neko are an even more controversial topic, because while the ethics of the existence of neko themselves is already a hot debate, wild neko were inarguably a _total_ mistake. Wild animals in their natural state already aren’t meant to be pets, let alone a _neko._ For one, they’re smart enough to know they’re being imprisoned and too wild not to try to escape. Crafty, much stronger than humans, and driven by base instincts to mate and hunt and survive, wild neko are inherently dangerous.

Basically, he’s fucked.  
  
That aside, he has to admit he’s still not completely against the idea. He put up some reluctance of course, and he _is_ apprehensive, but he’s a little excited too. He’s always wanted to see a neko up close, _touch one,_ I mean, who doesn’t?

His bubble is burst somewhat when Grimmjow starts to send him instructions — _exhaustive_ instructions — to prepare him for caring for this animal, because Ichigo sees now that this is not going to be much fun. It’s going to be more like some heavy-duty spy operation, like housing a dangerous criminal, and his house is the jail, he is the jailer, and the criminal is a eighty-kilo attack-beast that could literally rip him limb from limb and eat his body parts.

He’d known from the start that he was going to regret this, because he always did, it’s Grimmjow — but when he read the list, he _really_ started to think he was in over his head. He is ultra-fucked.

Even aside from the scarier items listed, like protective gloves, arm pads, and tranq darts, the more normal care items make him feel a little uneasy too, because this looks like it’s going to be _much_ more complicated than having a regular pet. Ichigo’s not sure he’s qualified to care for the animal when it arrives, never mind it killing _him,_ what if it ends up suffering or even getting sick because of his incompetence?

But he’d said he’d do it and he was committed now. Grimmjow doesn’t let people back out of shit, so he’s stuck.

He’d received an itemized list, and was following what had been written down for him. First, he’d cleared out a room of his apartment, moving the furniture into the front room — _‘Pick a room with no window and completely empty it out. Cover the outlets and switches.’_

“‘Heavy duty lock for the door, bike chain, et cetera,’” Ichigo read aloud, “‘Mattress or something for a bed.’” He dragged in a bare futon pad and put it on the floor in the corner, and then bought and installed a precautionary deadbolt lock for the door.

He picked up the list for the next item.

“‘Get a kiddy pool for it to use as a toilet’…” He groaned, “Great.”

That’s not all. The food was just as weird.

_‘Pick up some dog food, the dry pellet kind, get a bottle of calcium powder, mix in one cap when you feed it — leave water out in a metal dish, not glass.’_

And when he thinks it can’t get worse, Grimmjow comes over with _the stuff._

He dropped off a box of medication and syringes with little explanation other than: “I assume you know how to use these,” — to which Ichigo nodded grimly.

There was also a case, one of those black storm cases with an industrial-strength latch, meant to survive house fires and floods. Grimmjow opened it up to show him and Ichigo pretty much shit himself, because it’s a tranq gun, fuck, he doesn’t want to use that, he has to use that doesn’t he.

“Obviously, hide this in a really good spot, and only use it in an extreme situation,” Grimmjow said, “Like, fucking _extreme,_ like oh shit, it’s about to eat me alive—”

“I _get it,”_ Ichigo shuts him up, and Grimmjow shows him the syringe case again and the sedative dosage.

“Give it this in the neck every twelve hours and it won’t do much else but sleep. If for whatever reason it wakes up or starts to get hostile, get outta’ the room and lock the door,” he said seriously. “I know you, you fucking idiot, and I know you’ll start feeling guilty, but _don’t._ Don’t even open it to feed it, it’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’m starting to regret this,” Ichigo said bleakly.

“I never knew you were such a whiny little bitch.”

“Don’t be a jackass, I’m doing you a favor!” he snapped, whipping him in the shoulder. “You owe me!”

“Whatever! Just a couple more days, I’ll let you know when we’re coming.”

His last trip to make preparations landed him at the grocery store. He held the paper list in front of him, pushing his tiny cart with him, looking at the dog food and the jar of powdered calcium precariously stuffed inside.

He’d looked up what that shit was for, boggling his mind over it — _why the fuck do I need powdered calcium_ — and apparently people feed it to their housecats too. When a cat is fed meat instead of dried food, the calcium must be added, and is meant as a substitute for bones in the diet. In the wild, tigers sometimes eat the whole animal, which makes it all the stranger that Grimmjow had told him to pick up the calcium but not, y’know, _meat._

 _‘Dog food?’_   Ichigo grimaced. _‘Not very appetizing.’_

He imagines when the poor guy gets here he’s gonna’ be pretty agitated, being in a new place, taken there by strangers, won’t know what’s going on, and will probably not have the appetite for dog food. Ichigo can remember a bit of the neighborhood cat he’d tried to befriend as a kid; _notoriously_ picky.  
  


          On the way to the checkout, he circles back and picks up a pack of meat: a thick cut of steak.


	4. Chapter 4

It happened around ten at night, and it couldn’t have looked any shadier than it did.  


Grimmjow and some other guys with dark shades and black clothes showed up around the corner of his apartment in a van. Ichigo waited outside, nervously tapping his foot, glancing around and telling them to keep it the fuck down, his neighbors don’t need to see this.

He stood in the doorway while they rolled a huge metal case up into his apartment and slid it into the room he’d gotten ready. Ichigo waited there behind them, uncertain, and watched as the guys nodded wordlessly to each other. One of them, clearly having drawn the short straw, cautiously put one foot on top of the case, perched on it, and then slid open the metal door.

It was silent for a couple seconds, and Ichigo let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He’d been expecting it to jump out.

 _Wham! —_ Grimmjow kicked the back of the case with his boot, the metal echoing with a loud _bang,_ and a man immediately shot out of the cage and into the room.

Ichigo jumped back, startled, heart jolting when the guy stood up, towering at just over six feet.

In that instant, one of Grimmjow’s partners shoots him with a tranquilizer gun without hesitation, the dart sprouting from the center of his back from one second to the next.

Of course, it doesn’t knock him out immediately, and Ichigo thinks he feels his heart stop when the man turns and half-crouches, like a fighter centering his weight. His arms are out at his sides and hands curled as if ready to strike out with claws. Ichigo’s eyes shoot to the thick dark muzzle strapped onto his face — all of this is split-second recognition, because he lunged almost the instant he turned to face them.

And in that moment, Ichigo stared into a pair of eyes, so red with rage, so wild, that he felt frozen by it, heart beating quick and frantic like prey cowering before a hungry wolf — he stayed there motionless even as the door slammed shut and the men piled against it.

He can hear growling, the door rattling and bowing just slightly in the center as it is slammed against from the other side, but it quickly stops, the banging growing lazier and weaker, until it stops altogether and a _thump_ shakes the floor.

Ichigo just stared numbly, and it took a full ten seconds or so for it to set in: _that had been the tiger.  
_

Maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him, but it had all happened so fast, and in that blur of adrenaline, once it had _stood up,_ all Ichigo’s brain had seen was an angry man, instantly recognizing a human like any other — until their eyes had met and stopped him in his tracks.

  
The eyes aren’t human. There’s no sclera, no white whatsoever. They’re large, round, a glowing bloody orange.  


  The eyes of an animal.  


Ichigo stands there, trying to swallow and breathe, calm his racing heart. They open the door once it’s been quiet a minute or so, and Ichigo can see the vague outline of the guy laying on the floor.

They remove the cage and pull the dart from his back, and then leave as quickly as they’d come, no trace left behind other than the beast they were leaving in his house.

Grimmjow clapped a hand on his back, the last to go. “I’ll come for it soon,” he told him. “Keep your chin up.”

He waved over his shoulder and Ichigo stared after him numbly. “Try not to get eaten alive!”  


        Great. That was comforting.


	5. Chapter 5

   It takes Ichigo a while to pull himself together after that, as one could imagine.  


At first, he tried go on as he normally would. He went to the bathroom and splashed his face with cold water at the sink to try and get a grip, and then he made himself a snack and watched some TV, then got in bed and tried to sleep.

He laid there for some time, but the dark felt suffocating, the silence too eerie.

Eventually, skin crawling, he got up again — _‘I’m just going to the bathroom’_ — but he stopped on the way down the hall, just outside the door, and listened.  
  


He stood there, listened and listened, but it was quiet in there. He doesn’t open the door.  
  


Ichigo honestly doesn’t know how he got through that night, every creak of his house startling him, every strange shape in the dark sending his heart pounding — but he must have gotten to sleep eventually, because in the morning he woke with a start, sprawled on the couch.

He sat up and swallowed dryly, because he’s aware enough to know last night hadn’t been just some horrible dream. He looked around uneasily and headed back to the hallway, light on his feet, and carefully put one ear to the door and listened. He unlocked the bolt and slowly opened the door, peeking inside with one eye.

Some time during the night, the guy had moved to the corner, dragged himself over there onto the bed — and luckily, he’s still asleep.

It’s only been about seven hours, not time for another dose of sedative yet, but Ichigo’s got to leave for work soon, so it’s better if he gives him the next shot now, isn’t it.

He went into the kitchen, opened that package Grimmjow had left for him, and got a needle ready, taking it out of the package, sterile and wickedly sharp.

He loaded the syringe and flicked the bubbles out with fingers that shook slightly. _‘You’ve done this hundreds of times before, don’t be nervous,’_ he thought, but he still had to fight to control his breathing.

He went back to the room and after standing in the doorway a moment, feet frozen stiff from dread, Ichigo took a breath and crept inside, one step after the other, until he was just behind its back.  
  


_'It's fine, it's completely knocked out, just do it already—'  
_

He crouched and then slowly, _slowly_ placed his hand on the animal’s neck, felt the sluggish beat of its pulse against his palm. The needle went in smooth as he injected the fluid. It doesn’t move, but one red eye drifts open and rolls lazily.

Ichigo backed up, alarmed to see it awake, but it keeps lying there, presenting no danger. He glanced to the food dish. It hasn’t eaten anything yet.

His heart continued pounding hard, but since it didn’t react to being stuck with a needle other than shifting just slightly once, tail limply sliding a few inches and then stopping, Ichigo began to calm and eventually sat down with it for a time and watched it — maybe because it’s still a surreal shock, a neko is in his house, _a real neko._  
  
As he backed up and settled some distance away, it happened again, the part of his brain that controlled perception of new elements only recognizing a human being, because initially, he seems _human enough_ that he looks like any other guy would, lying there on the floor — except now in the daylight it’s unmistakable.  
  
Ichigo didn’t get a good look before in that instant of seeing him last night, but now that he’d gotten a better one, he sees the animal features quite clearly.

It’s a big male, a good half-head taller than him if it were to straighten up in front of him — his hair is long, a deep red, and _look, look at the ears._ There were orange and black ears that protruded right out of the top of the skull, the insides lined with short white tufts of hair, sensitive and very soft looking. A long lithe tail lay stretched out on the floor, running right down from his back, a natural extension of the spine. The biggest giveaway though, is the skin.

He was mostly plain beige like Ichigo, but the bare skin of his back is flushed golden. He’s marked with stripes along his flanks, up and down the sides of his legs and arms, and they span the plane of his back, thick, crisp, saturated stripes, jet black and startling white painting over the gold.

After a few minutes looking at him, puzzling over it — because it could almost be an elaborate paintjob from how natural it looked on the skin — Ichigo dared to reach a hand out and lightly touch just along its back with one finger. He pulled away cautiously, watching for any hostile reaction, but the beast was too drugged up to be bothered with him.

Its back felt just like his own, nothing special in the warm skin. He moved a finger over the stripes, and it felt like a tattoo, the edges indistinguishable from the rest of the skin’s surface.

The further he moved his hand up, the baby-fine hairs that pepper human skin grew slightly thicker, a velvety soft layer of short hair coating his upper back and shoulders, gold, black, and white to match his markings as they lead up into his neck. _‘Fur,’_ he thought in amazement, even though it’s not really thick enough to be called fur. He rubbed his finger on it over and over, it’s so soft it feels like a horse’s nose.  
  
Feeling more bold, he touched the tail too, and it flicked once.  

“This is so fucking cool,” he blurted aloud, “Look at you.”

The beast’s tail flicked again, and then it rolled, heaving upwards on a wobbly arm, thick and corded with bulging muscle, and Ichigo — he pretty much shits himself, scrambling back in surprise.

Maybe he’s being kind of cowardly, because how much can the thing hurt him when it’s high as a kite, but it had startled him being able to move that much. It shouldn’t even be awake right now.

Ichigo backed out and shut the door just as it lifted its head to look at him. He closed the door and turned the deadbolt, stood there and listened, entire body vibrating with adrenaline — and maybe he is kind of a slut for excitement, because brushes with death, thrilling oneself by touching an animal that could kill you, it’s _rock-stupid,_ but he knows he’s probably going to do it again at some point.  
  


There certainly will be no such thing as boredom while Stripes is here.  
  


There’s a heavy bump on the other side, probably the tiger slumping back to the floor in exhaustion. _‘Passed out,’_ he thinks, rubbing his sweaty palms on his legs.

He turned on the rice cooker for his dinner later, took a shower, dressed, and left to catch his train.  


He double-checked the tiger’s room and the front door were locked on the way out.


	6. Chapter 6

Ichigo was off in his own world during work that day. Busy daydreaming and dwelling on all that had happened and what would happen that night when he went home, in his absent-mindedness, he almost moved to administer an injection into a patient’s neck for a second before he made a smooth recovery.

He started to worry by lunch break, his mind flashing scenarios of everything that could go wrong: he comes home and it’s gotten out of the house, or is laying in wait to jump on him next time he opens the door—

By the time he got home around five thirty, it felt like he’d been away for an eternity, and the first thing he did after taking off his shoes in the entryway was check on his houseguest.

Still asleep, and worryingly, _unmoved._

Troubled, Ichigo tried to retrace his steps. It had been shot with the dart at ten last night, and he’d given the second shot to it at around eight that morning, so he’d still been around two hours out from the twelve hour limit — but even so. He would’ve thought it would have eaten something by now, or at least voided, but the kiddy pool is also untouched.

Ichigo closed the door quietly and moved to the kitchen to call Grimmjow, finding he had a couple missed calls already, probably meant to check up on him.  
  


“Hey.”  
  


“You’re alive.”  Yeah, that’s a great way to greet a friend you asked an unreasonable and life-threatening favor from.

  
“Yep.”  
  


“It was pretty pissed last night,” Grimmjow noted. “Give you any trouble after we left?”

  
“No,” Ichigo muttered, and he wouldn’t have anticipated this being worrisome, because it should be a comfort if it isn’t very active, isn’t hostile. “Hasn’t done much of anything. I gave him a shot early this morning, but it was before the twelve hours were up,” he recounted uneasily. “... Do you think I gave him too much?”

“Huh? How come?”

“He hasn’t fucking moved since I left for work,” Ichigo hissed in concern. “I think he’s too drugged up to even eat.”

“Once the tranq wears off a little more, it will,” Grimmjow dismissed confidently, which was a relief, but Ichigo still felt a little unsure, because it hasn’t _moved._ “In the last couple hours before the new dosage, it’ll get more active and be able to eat, but it’ll still be sedated enough for you to get another shot in it without too much risk. That’s what those arm pads were for.” Ichigo gave a noncommittal hum.

“I dunno’...”

“I don’t know what you’re fucking worrying for on the first day, it’s gotta’ adjust to the new surroundings,” he told him. “New smells. Y’know.” When Ichigo didn’t seem reassured, he huffed and reminded, “Just follow the instructions I left. You’ve got its case file too. There’s no way you can fuck this up, it’s all laid out for you.”

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

He still must sound mildly hysterical, or shell-shocked, or _something,_  because Grimmjow actually asks, “You okay?” with some hesitation.

“Yeah. I can do this,” he told himself.

“Keep the interactions to a minimum. You just have to house it until I come pick it up,” Grimmjow reminded, using a firm steady tone meant to steel him and snap him out of it.  
  
“Alright,” he agreed, feeling a bit more capable.

“Good.” He seemed satisfied, because he said, “I’ll call back in a couple days.”

Ichigo took the opportunity to creep into the room, change the water in the dish, and carefully paced a few steps towards the tiger, still some distance back, and leaned up to try and get a look at its head — but its eyes are closed, and the whole time he’s in there, other than breathing, it lays there motionless like its dead.

He comes back in at around nine in the evening — the twelve hour mark — to give it another sedative.

It’s rolled over since then. The food bowl has moved, but looks uneaten.

Ichigo approached slowly, the syringe hidden behind his back in case it wakes up. He injects the shot in its neck, quickly retreating, but it doesn’t react, doesn’t even open its eyes this time.  
  


_‘... This doesn’t seem right.’_  
  


It’s troubling. He supposed it was better than caging a ferocious jungle beast and fearing for his life every second — that was what he’d expected and prepared for, and now he was at a bit of a loss. He hadn’t thought his guest would spend all its time… _sleeping._ Something must be wrong.

That night, he sat in the kitchen and read his refugee houseguest’s file while he ate some simple dinner. The rice from this morning is waiting, steaming and perfect.

He unclipped the manilla envelope and slid out the thick folder, opening the front. It looks like a case file from a spy movie, or for a test subject. He read over the general information on the first page.

He knew that neko were a species of animal that had been created by humans, their DNA manipulated and engineered until stable and sustainable — all of which meant they were a kind of animal that had never lived in the wild and didn’t have a natural habitat.

Even so, it felt eerily as though he was reading a case file for a real tiger, a zoo animal that had been a victim of poaching, maybe a baby one that had been rescued from a circus, stolen from its mother at birth.  
  
  


_‘Breed: Bengal Tiger            Adult male._

_Estimated age: 26 years.     Ear-tag: 0AT473M_  
  
_Vaccinated: Y   Declawed: N   Neutered: N_

_Very aggressive, feral, hostile towards humans.’_

 

 _‘Okay, we get it, he’s a wild animal,’_ Ichigo thought derisively.  
  


It looked like a buyer got hold of him when he was young, but for some reason he was never domesticated. He was sold as a pet at around age twenty — out of one cage and into the next.

He stops there and sighs.   What a sad life to live.  
  


Ichigo got into bed and set his alarm for eight am. He double-checked the deadbolt as he passed down the hall to go to bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sleepy kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur


	7. Chapter 7

    In the morning, the tiger’s room smelled of ammonia, the pool had clearly been used, but the food still hadn’t been touched.  
  


He was getting _worried._ It’s been over two days and it hasn’t eaten. He’s pretty sure whatever dosage Grimmjow gave him was too strong. Maybe it was strong enough to keep the animal from attacking him, but it was also strong enough to keep it from doing anything else. He thought about what he should do for the whole day at work, because he’s seriously concerned it’s going to get sick, or start to starve.

That evening when he got home, he put off giving the next dose for longer than he should. Before, he’d been really careful, giving the sedative a couple hours in advance of the twelve hour mark, but this time he pushed it — eight o clock, eight thirty, _nine._

He opened the door on the twelve hour mark with shaking hands and a knife in his shoe. He sat down there in front of the door, and maybe he’s getting some sick thrill out of this. After all, how many people get to see a neko up close, keep it in their house, touch it.

Grimmjow’s right, he likes excitement, he’s a complete idiot for it — anything that stops the numb buzz of the ennui, no matter how dangerous. Everything else goes out the window.

His heart pounded as he sat there, it was nine thirteen, and he can see the high wearing off as he sits and waits there. It’s starting to move around more and more, shifting minutely at firsts, then bringing its arm to its eyes and rubbing.

At last it sat up, shook itself a little, wobbled, and got up on one knee, then the other, and tried to use its arms to push itself up onto all fours.

“Whoa, easy buddy,” Ichigo said, backing up cautiously, hands out. Its ears perked.

“Hey. You’ve gotta’ eat,” he told it, because they look like humans but have the intelligence of an animal, they’re stupid, they can’t talk — but in all the TV shows, they can understand speech, they can follow orders.

“Eat or you’re gonna’ die before you get to freedom.”  

It doesn’t eat. It made a clumsy attempt to get its feet under it, but stumbled and flopped back to the ground. Then it tried to crawl.

Stomach twisting, Ichigo pushed the bowl towards him and watched as he lifted a hand to the edge, gripped it —  


    And then _shoved_ it away with a clatter, lying there gasping.  


Ichigo grit his teeth at the pathetic sight, pity and compassion making his temper rise.

“Stubborn,” he grumbled, and he knew immediately he’d said the wrong thing, maybe it was his tone of voice, but the short hair on its back, on its arms and neck and shoulders, all of it stands up and a low growl emanates from the creature, chilling Ichigo’s blood. It’s deep, feral — _scary._

The hair on his neck stands up too, and he hurried to inject the syringe before it could regain its strength fully and rip out his throat. It yelped when he stuck it with the needle, then groaned when he pressed down the plunger, brow contorting.

“Eat,” Ichigo told it, frustrated. “Eat, you stupid bastard. You have one job and that’s to live until you can get out of here — so just fucking eat.”

It looked at him, eyes burning into his, wide and furious, like they _know_ who he is and know he’s the one keeping it trapped here; they _blaze_ with hatred. He took a couple steps back in alarm, watching as it raised itself on a shaking arm and shoved itself away from the food bowl, back into the corner.  
  


He felt a strong urge to kick it in the back. _‘Stubborn ass!’_ he raged.  
  


That was _deliberate._ Any animal had enough sense to eat to survive, but this stupid tiger was being defiant on purpose, refusing its food.

It’s the crawling that gets him, the way the great big creature is so weak with hunger that it cannot pick up its head and has to drag itself across the floor — it’s so fucking pitiful that it’s nauseating. Ichigo watched as it continued to pull itself away, each movement a struggle, muscles straining, its tail limply sliding behind him, and Ichigo felt… _guilt —_ because those eyes had been defiant and rebellious, but his body language now was _sad,_  like a depressed zoo animal that has lost hope.  


Poor guy. His whole life has probably been like this. Spent in a cage.  


Ichigo swallowed, stared at him for a few more moments, then closed the door and left him alone.  


            It’s time to bring out the big guns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feed the hungry boy


	8. Chapter 8

    It’s been around seven hours since he’d last given the neko the shot.  


It’s almost dawn now, but Ichigo hadn’t been able to sleep anyways, too conflicted — those golden orange eyes keep coming back to him, burning with rage and suffering, _haunting him._

At last, he gave up on his futile attempts to rest, and threw his sheets off. Ichigo entered the kitchen in the dark, opened the fridge, and pulled out the package that had been left largely forgotten.

He stood at the counter, punctured the plastic, and pulled out the steak, laying the thick cut on his best plate, watching the red juice leak out and puddle beneath it. It gleamed in the dim light of the approaching dawn, raw and bloody.  


_'See if he turns his nose up at this!'_ he thinks in determination, to try and calm his racing heart.  


He swallowed, and carried the plate with him down the hallway, gripped the doorhandle, unlocked it, and then slowly opened it.

This time when he peeked in, with a start, he saw it was sitting up in the corner, sitting up _like a human._ Its eyes were open, and they glowed in the dark, fixed on the door, fixed on _him_ — like it had been waiting.

He’s there on a corner of the futon, legs out in front of him. Now that he was turned towards him, Ichigo can see that the gold patches of skin on his back are accompanied by a lighter stomach and chest, a lighter creamy color that melts up his neck and down the inside of his thighs. There were thick stripes on his chest and stomach, and he has nipples and a bellybutton like a human does. He looked human all over really, other than the stripes and the bit of extra body hair.

Ichigo doesn’t know how it’s this awake, it’s far too soon for him to be this active, and maybe that’s what makes him feel at ease enough to close the door and squat. He cautiously set the plate down on the ground and slid it forward a little.

It didn’t move. Its eyes didn’t even leave him for a few long seconds. They flicked to the plate for an instant, then back to him again. He slowly sat himself against the door, and the two of them stare at each other for some time, motionless.  


_‘Stay still,’_ he told himself, as if he were taming a stray cat, _‘Look unthreatening.’_  


Ichigo smiled kindly; tried to. “Don’t worry, buddy,” he muttered, because the guy looked so human that it’s hard to remember that he can’t talk back. The neko looks like any other guy would in his situation: sad and scared.    

“You’re safe now.”

He scooted a little closer, pushed the plate at him a few more inches, but the tiger didn’t reach for it. Ichigo anxiously looked into its face, finding that now it was staring at the plate, eyes fixated on it with laser-focus.

He tried creeping a tiny bit closer and its eyes go back to him again, sharp and distrustful, honed in on his every move. Ichigo dared to move another inch, and part of him, the part with some self-preservation left, knew he was being a _fucking_ idiot, pushing his luck like this. The rest of him is high off the adrenaline, the thrill of being allowed this close.

Its ears flicked back for a moment, gaze unwavering, but it didn’t react otherwise, letting him approach.

“Aren’t you hungry by now?” Ichigo tried, and obviously got no response.

“I thought you’d like this,” he murmured. “I didn’t even cook it, just like you like, huh? Look at all that blood, looks really juicy,” he coaxed.

No response other than the same watchful stare. Maybe he doesn’t trust him to eat in front of him.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” he told him, leaving him with the plate of raw steak so he can enjoy it in private. “Eat up.”

Exhausted, running on little sleep, Ichigo just got ready for work, and came back a couple hours later before he was supposed to leave.

It was closing in on the twelve hour mark now, and he has the syringe ready. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead on the door to take a breath, even though he was sure the animal’s sensitive ears had heard him coming already.

He opened the door and came in, but immediately stopped and blinked at his feet, finding the plate on the ground there right in the doorway, the steak untouched. Tiger was sitting up again, shoulder against the wall, his back to the door. He was pushed up into the corner, his head glumly resting there, tail flicking behind him with discontent.

It turned its head, eyeing him, and then twisted around, back against the wall. Its eyes are more alert than Ichigo’s ever seen them.  


“You didn’t touch anything again…”

Ichigo was honestly pretty disappointed that he hadn’t eaten the steak. He’d thought for sure that he would.  


A moment later, Ichigo stopped, watching as the tiger hesitantly raised a hand, and for a hot second, Ichigo knew he was hallucinating, because he could see him pause in consideration, as if judging his next move.

Then it brought its hand the rest of the way up and touched the outside of the muzzle, eyes bright with intelligence, flicking to his own tentatively — like it didn’t know if Ichigo would understand what it was showing him, didn’t think he would pay attention.

Ichigo stared for a couple seconds, then smacked his forehead with a groan. Of _course_ it can't eat with that fucking thing on. “Fuck! Why didn’t I— Fucking _idiot,”_ he ranted.  


He stopped dead and blinked, stared, pointed vaguely. “Wait…”   _It had just communicated with him._  


_“What?”_ he whispered in awe, to see if he’d imagined it, if he’d do it again.  


He watched as the tiger, with much less hesitation, put its hands to its stomach, digging its fingers in, and then reached up to the muzzle again, curling his hand around it, gripping it.

“Oh shit,” he breathed, and realized now why the poor guy had been mad about the food he’d kept trying to push at him, why he’d shoved it away, why he’d put the steak as far as he possibly could. He could smell it, could see it, could reach it, but couldn’t eat it.  


_“Fuck,_ sorry, I didn’t— Here,” Ichigo tried, getting closer, _closer,_ very slowly.  


It let him, lowering its hands from the muzzle, eyes big and soulful, _tortured._ It was pitiful, and Ichigo was right in front of it at last, the closest he’s gotten when it was this lucid.

His heart pounded so hard that he was light-headed, and he reached up with his own hand, touching lightly on the muzzle, leaning close to look at the locking mechanism once the tiger let him. The latch was easy enough to unclasp, but impossible to maneuver when one can’t see it, which, obviously, the tiger couldn’t see its own face.

He fiddled with it, gently tugged at it. The tiger closed its eyes, letting it happen, probably too exhausted from hunger and drugs to do much else. Ichigo grit his teeth. It had to be so hungry, laying in here for days with food just within reach, yet unable to open its mouth.  


It raised a hand, closing it around his wrist — he doesn’t squeeze, just… _holds him._  


Ichigo stared, frozen, eyes locked onto the hand.

All animals have a distinctive characteristic, and what could be more striking, more unique than the human hand. It was unmistakable.  


“It’s okay,” he whispered, even though it’s an animal, even though it can’t answer back. “You’re gonna’ be okay, buddy. One sec.”  


He unclasped the muzzle, removed it, peeling it back from damp skin, revealing the deep imprints of the inside of the muzzle, pressed onto his face for so long. It took a breath in relief when he took it away, sliding a metal brace out of its mouth.

“There we go…”

Maybe he was expecting something more animalistic, some sort of catlike snout or wet nose, but he’s surprised to look into a very human face.

The stripes on the rest of his body are there on his cheeks too, streaking his forehead, some small ones on the bridge of his nose, thick white stripes under his eyes, black ones lining his brow. They recede into his hair and down his neck, but other than that, he’s like any other man.  


      Ichigo stared in wonder.   He’s so… _handsome._  


They look at each other, as if mesmerized. Ichigo slowly reaches a hand out to his face, to touch his cheek. That breaks the spell.

It bared its teeth, big, long, _sharp_ teeth. For a second, Ichigo can't move, frozen like a rabbit staring into the jaws of death.

Its ears are back against its skull, eyes open wide, fangs bared. Then it growls  _loud,_  snarling, deep and fearsome, and it swiped, hit him — _hard._

Ichigo retreated, scrambled away, closed the door and locked it, and it immediately slammed against his back, rough wild slams.  


His throat was tight with terror as he backed away down the hall, watching the door rattle against the bolt.  


_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ya done hecked up


	9. Chapter 9

   Ichigo didn’t open the door after that.  
  


He was too afraid. He’d never gotten to give the tiger its shot, and by now the thing was fully awake — had to be.

It’s been quiet in there since then, but he’s still too scared to go back and he’s _screwed_ now. He can’t even go in and give him another shot, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to get close enough before Stripes bit into him and left his corpse for Grimmjow to find.

Ichigo knows its his own fault for pushing his luck and being a fucking idiot — it's not like he would've tried to reach out and touch a  _real_ tiger, but it's like his brain had switched off in that moment and his hand had acted on its own, as if magnetized— and then it had already been too late.

He figures his best bet is to just keep it locked in until it was time for it to get transported. Even if the thing has to starve in there until then, Grimmjow had said to keep the door shut.     

So he does — and curses himself that he was ever fool enough to say yes to this crazy job.  
  


     Ichigo has a short but bad history with neko.  


As a child, he had really liked them. He’d thought they were so cool and cute and loveable. He’d wanted one as a pet when he grew up, wanted to see one so bad, and, y'know, _pet it,_ but of course, it was pretty much impossible for a regular person to come into contact with one. This was as impossible a dream as becoming a superhero.

So one day, when he’d been out for a walk with his mama, when he thought he saw a neko on the arm of a man in a business suit across the street, he’d run towards them immediately — right into the road.  
  


    He never found out for sure if he’d been mistaken or not.  
  


Ichigo grit his teeth, as it’s something he still bitterly regrets, even after so much time had passed.    _‘Stupid fucking kid,’_ he thought.  
  


He hasn’t learned. He kept reaching out for something he wasn't meant to have and then watched his life fall to pieces. He never should have agreed to help Grimmjow with this one. He's been a total fool — he is in  _way_ over his head.  
  


Ichigo only lasts a few more hours in the sickeningly tense atmosphere of his silent apartment, and grabbed the phone, thumb slipping over the numbers.

As soon as Grimmjow picks up, he cut right to the chase, "Grimmjow, you have to get over here as quick as possible."

“This is taking longer than expected,” Grimmjow informed, irritated and clearly overworked and _not_ willing to entertain his change of heart. “You have to keep it up,” he told him, no excuses.

“... I can’t do this, Grimm,” he said with a sort of helplessness, trying to make him understand that he _really can’t handle this, he's overwhelmed, there's a living, breathing, assault-beast in his house and the only thing separating them is a slab of wood—  
_

“You fucking have to,” Grimmjow insisted mercilessly. “What happened?”

“What?” he blurts, and for some reason, talking about it is making him relive that moment of terror, that instant of calm as he'd put his hand up to his face and then suddenly he'd bared these _nightmare teeth—_ he can't go back in there, he can't fucking do it— 

“Something obviously fucking happened, why else would you suddenly be scared this shitless. You're not usually such a fucking loser, so what the _fuck_ happened.”

Ichigo swallowed, putting a hand to his eyes, and explained, “I, I went in and— I think I waited too long to give him his shot.”

After a pause, Grimmjow asked, much more seriously: “Did it hurt you?”   That's his _serious_ voice, when he means you'd better think very _fucking_ carefully about your answer.

“I scared him,” he avoided.

"Kurosaki," he barked. "Are — you — fucking — _hurt?"_ And that's how they are with each other. In those rare moments when Grimmjow is worried about him, it's masked with so much anger that the concern is completely disguised. _  
_

"No," Ichigo breathes, "No, I'm just— I think I'm freaking out." He put a hand to his eyes, shit, he feels delirious.

"I don't know what to do now," he tries to tell him. "He's in there, and I went way over the time I was supposed to put him to sleep— I don't... What do I do?"

Grimmjow gave an exasperated huff, like he wishes he was there with him so he could slap him across the face. “Okay, look,” he said, like he can’t put up with this right now. “Tigers can survive a pretty long time without eating much. They take down around one kill a week in the wild. Just keep it closed up and I’ll try to speed things along. If it's as bad as you say, then don't open the fucking door.”

He must be doing that numbed silence thing again because Grimmjow stressed, _“Ichigo."_ Which sobers him up a little, because whoa,  _real name,_ Grimm really means it. 

"You _have_ to keep your cool," he said slowly. "You can’t blow my fucking cover when we’re this far along. You have to see this through.”

Closing his eyes, head hanging, Ichigo breathed, “Okay.” Fuck, he’s really shaken up. “Okay.”

“Just remember. It can’t hurt you if you don’t give it the opportunity. It might be stronger, but you’re smarter.”

Uneasy, Ichigo thought back to the way he had held onto his arm, the way he had shown him that he can’t eat —  granted, it was through nonverbal communication, but the message had been clear as day. He obviously understood what Ichigo was saying to him, and had then responded by telling Ichigo that he was hungry.  
  


     “Yeah,” he said, the words coming out hollow.  
  


“Keep it locked up. You can wait this out.”  
  


“Okay.”  
  


“You can handle this.”  
  


“Okay,” he repeated, trying to believe it.  
  


He knew it was really important that he keep his cool. He can’t let anything go wrong. Grimmjow's counting on him with something really big, and even though Grimmjow lets him down a lot, Ichigo always comes through for his friends, even at personal expense.

Once he's calmed down a little more, enough that he can think things through more rationally, the situation looks a little better — less bleak.

Obviously, Ichigo's not mad, just really fucking spooked. He doesn't hold the guy responsible, because even though he had hit him, _hurt him_ a little bit, it's not like it's Stripes' _fault._

It was a wild animal, never meant to be kept in a cage, never meant to be a pet, but some rich bastard had tried — and it makes sense that it had lashed out when Ichigo had tried to touch it, because it's clearly been abused. It's not a huge stretch to say that the tiger didn't trust humans and had felt cornered, gotten scared, and Ichigo doesn't blame him for snapping. It’s not the poor guy’s fault that he’s skittish and aggressive.

That doesn't change the fact that he's still got a lot of strength and weight on Ichigo and could easily _kill_ him. It’s too unpredictable to be handled, and has to be kept in there for their mutual safety.

It’s unavoidable, but it still sucks.

Ichigo didn’t know what he was going to do, because Grimmjow is right about it being a very simple plan — all he has to do is _not_ open the door, but Ichigo's a big softie, which really is the root of most of the problems in his life. Seriously, it's been under two days and he already feels sort of bad keeping it locked in there.

But _fuck,_ he’s scared. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more scared in his entire fucking life than when that thing had snapped at him.

Ichigo keeps thinking of how to feed him, because he doesn't want him to go hungry in there, but it's not like he can fight the guy off if he opens the door and Stripes _jumps_ him or something. Still, even to prevent a violent untimely end, it seems a shame that the poor guy has to starve in there.  
  


After a day of work, he’s calmed down enough that he’s reasonably confident in his resolve, having built up a renewed determination to just power through these next couple days. He can get through this.

When he comes in, keys still in his hand as he takes off his coat, he looked up and his heart stopped, breath freezing in his throat.  
  


The tiger’s door is open.


	10. Chapter 10

          Shit.   _Shit._  
  


Ichigo stands there frozen in the entryway, a pit of lead in his gut, horror keeping him there. There are woodchips on the floor in the hallway and a broken hole in the molding where the bolt had _ripped through_ from sheer brute force.  


_It broke the fucking door. It got out._  


Breathing fast, blinded by terror, Ichigo couldn’t think straight, the only thing buzzing through on repeat, _it got out, it got out_ — fuck, he doesn’t know what to do, where is it, oh fuck—

He stands there absolutely motionless for a long time, trying to swallow, because he knows he can't leave, knows he has to go _in there—_ He finally took a tentative step into the front room, moving through the house slowly, because even in walking around this quietly, if the animal is still in here it’s already heard him, already smelt him, knows he’s back, _knows where he is —_ and it could pounce at any moment.   Is it still here? Fuck, where is it, oh fucking shit.

Ichigo’s been in his share of fights in high school, he’s no coward, but he’s never been in a situation where he’d felt his _life_ was in immediate danger — now he knows what that’s like, the hand of death on your shoulder, and he felt like he would smother from the fear closing in on him.

It crosses his mind to grab a weapon, but it leaves just as quickly, because he knows there’s no hope of fighting this thing off. Even getting the tranquilizer gun, it wouldn’t work quickly enough to keep it from gutting him with its claws, biting into his neck, dragging him through the house like a chew toy.  Oh god, what does he do—  


Everything in the front, the living room and kitchen,  looked as it should. The windows are all shut and the house is quiet.  


He wondered hysterically if it had escaped, gotten outside somehow. Nothing was stopping it from opening the front door and walking out. That's almost a worse prospect than having it lying in wait somewhere in his house. If it got outside... he is in _deep shit._  


_‘I am so fucked. Grimmjow’s gonna’ be pissed, man… Shit, what would he say in this situation.’  
_

Ichigo stood up straight, inhaled sharply through his nose, and clenched his fists.  


_‘Okay listen Kurosaki you little bitch, I swear to fucking god if I get fired because of you I will rip you a new asshole, you understand me?’_ Ichigo nodded, grunting and pursing his lips, scowling hard in determination. _‘Now you get in there and you show that thing who’s the fucking boss around here. Yeah? Yeah!’_  


Teeth gritted hard, Ichigo slowly walked through the house, cautiously looking around, fists at the ready — he’s ready to fucking _swing_ the second anything jumps out. He checked the tiger’s room, and of course, no one’s there. Notably, the food bowl was empty, the water too, and the steak plate was gone.

When he came back out, suspicious and listening hard to hear if it was still lurking around, hiding somewhere, he crept into the front one more time, considering grabbing a knife. The kitchen looked untouched too, but on second notice, there was the plate — clean, and set on the floor in front of the counter.

The bathroom door is always open and it’s pretty reasonable to guess that he’s not hiding in the toilet compartment or the hall closet, so now there’s only his room left to check.

Heart pounding in his throat, Ichigo goes down to the end of the hall to his bedroom, the door is half-open, and as he approaches, he gets an unsettling glimpse of his clothes strewn all over the floor. It had definitely been in there — fuck, what is he about to walk in and see?...

Feeling like a schmuck in some b-rated horror film, Ichigo slowly comes up to the doorway, scanning the trail of clothes with dread, but luckily, other than that, the room hadn’t been trashed. Nothing was destroyed or torn up.

He peeked around the edge of the doorway, and there he is, lying on the ground, facing away from him. There’s a moment of relief somewhere in there among the heavy thrum of adrenaline — because, _oh thank fuck, it’s sleeping,_ he still has a chance to go get the syringe, y’know, do a sneakattack injection.

But since he’s a fucking idiot, Ichigo took another moment or so to try and understand what he was looking at, because it's _weird, okay?_  The tiger is laying there on its side with his clothes. A rumpled pair of cargo pants were trapped under its legs and a shirt is clutched in its hand.  


_‘What?...’_  


Frowning, Ichigo took a step back, and even though he didn’t make a sound, the tiger’s ears perk, and instead of taking his chance to get the fuck out of there, he stands there frozen, watching as it wakes up. His heart is pounding so hard and he gets such a _rush_ that he thinks he’ll pass out if he doesn’t expend all that energy somehow, either by tearing ass out of here or by hitting it over the head with something in a frenzy to try and knock it out.

He still can’t make himself move as it slowly rolls over and gets to its feet,  _stands up, shit it’s fucking huge._  


Ichigo averted his eyes, because fuck, don’t look a cornered animal in the eye, please don’t lunge, don’t lunge—  


He just about thinks he can make a break for it if he bolts now, but after glancing up for a split second, he saw that the tiger guy looked like he was thinking exactly the same thing — _I wonder if I can still run before he gets me—_  He looked scared shitless.

His tail was stiff and puffy, his ears back, eyes wide, and the corners of his mouth were lifted, teeth glittering. The white markings lining his eyes seem to accentuate his expressions of terror, serving to make him appear even more intimidating,  _fuck, he’s scary._ Oh god, this is so bad, it’s easily over six feet, and is packed with muscle, and is standing there tense at every joint, poised to snap, bolt, lunge, he doesn’t know what— and for several long seconds, they just stare at each other.  


Ichigo stood there motionless, doesn’t know what else to do but continue this standoff, can't risk making any wrong moves, and slowly whispered, _“Fuck.”_  


In response, it bared its teeth in a flash, and Ichigo _jumped,_  fuck, he’s really scared — and it gets worse, because him getting spooked, in turn, spooked the neko, who immediately yowled and flinched back, retreating a few paces. He’s slightly behind the corner of his bed, half-crouching, arms out at his sides. His mouth is wide open to show his teeth — telling him: _don’t you fuck with me, I’ll fucking bite you, don’t come any closer, I swear to god I’ll fuck you up— _

“Whoa, whoa, shit!” Ichigo yelped, arms shooting up just in case it charged him. It let out another heavy ferocious hiss, baring its jaws, lip curling back, those are some horrible teeth, that’ll really fucking hurt if it bites him, oh shit.

His next breath comes out shaky and tight, fuck, he’s trembling all over. “Okay, fuck, I’m really scared,” he whispered, numb with terror, because he doesn’t know what to do in this situation. He fumbles for his phone a little, reaching around clumsily to his back pocket.

“I don’t know what to do,” he blurted, and doesn’t think he can move, can’t take his eyes off the thing, what if it lunges, it’s all over—   It fucking _growled,_  and Ichigo had always hoped that if he died a sudden violent death that he could face it with dignity, but now he’s not even sure he can keep from peeing his pants for much longer.  


    “Fuck… I don’t know what to do, I’m so fucking scared."  


It stopped all of a sudden, closing its mouth. Okay, progress, progress, don’t fuck this up any worse, don’t startle it—  Ichigo slowly held his hands up, palms out, _I’m not a threat._ “Just… just stay right there,” he said breathlessly.  


“I’m not gonna’ hurt you,” he told it earnestly. “So, so you don’t hurt me. Okay?...”  


They stare each other down for several long moments, but as Ichigo waits, heart pounding so hard that he’s seriously about to puke, the tiger’s shoulders begin to drop minutely.

Slowly, with the pace of a glacier, like he’s also afraid that death might come at any moment, that Ichigo might hurt him if he moves at all, he slowly, _slowly_ crouched to the floor, creeping forward inch by inch.

It reached out with the very ends of its fingertips and picked up the clothes it had clutched when Ichigo had first come in.

Ichigo watched, not daring to move, what is it doing, what the fuck is it doing—

It slowly backs away again and then stands up. Hesitantly, it brings its arm out to full extension, holds the clothes out to him — like a human would, if they were handing something to someone else.  


Like he’s trying to give them back.  


Ichigo stared, eyes flicking from his clothes, held there in a tight clawed fist, to the tiger’s face, tense and skittish, teeth still slightly revealed. Then he raised a hand, trembling slightly, slow enough that the tiger could easily track and anticipate his movements.

He took them, and Stripes pulled back sharply, dropping the clothes as soon as Ichigo touched them— They both basically jump out of their skins, and for a second, he’s sure they’re both thinking the same thing, _‘Oh shit, it almost touched me!’_

The clothes are ripped a little bit, from claws or teeth, he can’t tell. As Ichigo holds them up and looks at them, the tiger’s chin goes down a tiny bit, eyes still focused on him, but his ears are back almost sheepishly.  


Frowning, Ichigo stared, vaguely unsettled. “What were you…”  


He reached out as if to push the clothes towards Ichigo some more, barely nudging them in his hurry to retreat again. Okay, Ichigo understands that much, he’s trying to give the clothes back to him, but… why did he…  


Ichigo’s lips parted, and he cocked his head slightly. “... Huh.”  


He took a step back, his foot sliding out into the hallway as he drew back. The tiger stays there staring after him for a second, tail flicking distrustfully, but a moment later, he took a tentative step after him.

Ichigo backed up again, and it walked forward a tiny bit more.  


_‘Okay good, this is good.’_  


They continue this down the hall until they’re in front of the open door to the tiger’s room. They stand there and stare at each other, and Ichigo pointed in there vaguely, at a loss for words, but the tiger retreats a step, and though he doesn’t bare his teeth again, his lips lift slightly in a snarl.

Of course it wouldn’t be that easy, but he’d hoped it might work.

“Okay, okay,” Ichigo tried to appease him as he growls, _shit,_ that still really scares him, it’s like an electric shock every time he hears it. He holds his hands up. “Uhh…”    


_‘Shit, what the fuck am I supposed to do if it won’t go back in? What the fuck does it want? I can’t just leave it out here!’_  


Sweating nervously, Ichigo tried, “Um… I don’t know what you want. What do you want... Uhhh…”   He can’t talk back obviously, can’t verbally respond, and Ichigo knew this, but he didn’t know what else to do.

“Maybe… maybe you’re hungry!” he said. Instead of another growl, silence greets him. Thinking he may have landed on something, Ichigo straightened up a little, hopefully.  “Do you want to eat something?...”

“. . .”

Very slowly, the tiger took a half-step forward, without him having backed up. His expression is tense, eyes skittish, like he doesn’t trust him but is too enticed by the idea of food to keep his ears from perking up the way they do. He must be really hungry.

Ichigo backed up, and it followed him. Okay, this was good.

“Yeah, just… This way, big guy,” he told it, mostly just to fill the silence and keep himself from hearing the sound of his own heart in his ears.  


     “I’ll feed you and then you can go back to sleep.”


	11. Chapter 11

This is a really fucking _stupid_ idea, to try touching a volatile animal while it’s fucking _eating —_ even stupider than his brilliant idea to try petting it and then letting it off the drugs keeping it too sedated to maim him — but Ichigo, in the hysteria of fear, trying to come up with some sort of plan that will keep him alive, has the vague idea that maybe he can surprise attack the tiger with a sedative to the neck while it drops its guard to eat, and then he can barricade himself in his room before it can kill him, wait for it to pass out, drag it to its room, barricade it in there again, and then give Grimmjow a fucking piece of his mind.

The thought crosses his mind, but y'know, now that they're really doing this, shuffling down the hallway inch by inch, this plan seems like bullshit.

Because, the animal is clearly scared. It's so shy,so skittish,  _timid,_ yet it's still following him anyway. Which means its obviously fucking  _starving,_ enough so that, in that moment of weakness, Ichigo's able to coax it after him — and he didn’t know if he could go through with it, betraying someone who’s that desperate. He'd feel like a complete fucking monster.

At last, they get to the kitchen, the neko having followed him step for step, maintaining a few yards between them at any given time. Ichigo’s careful never to show the animal his back, and can see it watching him from a distance as he opens the fridge with a _pop._ It startled, flinching back, but then craned its neck to try and peer in, wide awed eyes flicking over the fridge contents and the glowing light.

Ichigo can see him watching as he selected a package of pork chops, still on the bone. These were supposed to be for him, but fuck it.

It isn't until he's standing there with the meat on the plate, looking at the neko, who doesn't get any closer and just stares back, that Ichigo realizes this isn't like feeding any other pet. It feels like he should be able to just reach out and hand him the goddamn plate, because he's got fucking  _hands,_ but...

Ichigo blinks and breaks his gaze, a ghost image of the red eyes trailing behind, and after a moment or two of consideration, he slowly leaned down and set the plate on the floor, then moved it forward with his foot, backing away.

When it doesn't approach the food in the next five seconds, Ichigo glances up again, a natural reaction of a human recognizing a peer, trying to ascertain emotion through facial expression.

The tiger stands there across from him, looking as though it has no intention of accepting the food, staring Ichigo down. The glare felt physical somehow,  _accusatory,_ and as Ichigo watched, it set its jaw in a manner that was startlingly similar to how Grimmjow does when he's mad.

Heart beating like a ticking bomb, Ichigo clenches his fist, nails digging into his palm, but after a couple tense moments, maintaining eye-contact, the animal lowers to the floor in front of him. Then it puts its mouth to the meat and eats it.  
  
An animal shouldn't mind eating off the floor, so the sight shouldn't affect Ichigo in any way. However, if it was anyone else in this same position, if it was a human per se, Ichigo would imagine they would react similarly to being forced to eat off the ground at someone's feet — and somehow, he must not have expected the tiger to  _look_ like that, like it understood that humiliation.  


Maybe that's why Ichigo immediately felt intensely  _ashamed._  


He swallowed it down, trying to separate himself from it the way he always does at work, removing himself emotionally from the people he's helping so it doesn't have to affect him if things go wrong. That's how he's able to look at things that others cringe away from instinctively, too graphic or bloody — Stripey-boy is like any other animal, eating from a bowl. It shouldn't trouble him any more than watching a zoo animal be fed.

  
Except it does.  
  
  
He backed away and sat at the table, watching in a sort of disturbed fascination as it started using its hands to bring food to its mouth, eating in big zealous bites, gorging on the sinew and fat indiscriminately. It’s a deranged sight that he can’t tear his eyes away from, watching a distinctly _human_ form eat the same way he’s seen wolves and lions tear up a carcass on the Discovery channel.

It's hard to look at a human eating _raw meat_ that way. The way the neko bites into it without hesitation, like it isn't bothered by the unappetizing sight, completely unconcerned with the taste of its food — the way it does this while still wearing a human face, for a second it's like something from a cannibal flick.

The teeth though, the teeth dispel the illusion. They're not human in the slightest, all of the ones that Ichigo can see in the front are pointed and rip into the raw flesh spectacularly.

He lost a few years of his life from the shock he got when he heard a sudden sharp _crack,_ and then _crunching,_ fuck, it’s even eating the bone.  


_‘Yeah, I need a lot more steaks,’_ he thought deliriously.  


It only took a couple minutes, the poor guy is ravenous, and once he finished, he looked up at Ichigo almost defiantly, sliding the plate away from him — another deep and vicious bolt of shame.

“How about some water,” Ichigo tried after a couple moments, at a loss. It stayed there on the floor as he got up and opened a cabinet, reaching for a bowl.  
  
Then he paused, looking back over his shoulder — and on second thought, he grabbed a cup and filled it. After a moment's hesitation, he set it on the table.

  
It stared up at him for a while, and Ichigo waited to see if it might— yeah, there we go.  


Stripes slowly stood up again, and reached out for the glass, eyes flicking to Ichigo again and again, as if judging whether this was really what Ichigo wanted him to do, is he mistaken—

When Ichigo made no move to stop him, he used both hands to take the cup, making it look very small as he brought it to his lips. He took a small careful sip, swallowed, then tipped it back and drank in heavy quick gulps that he sputtered through as excess spilled down his neck.

Ichigo held out a hand, unsure, and it looked at him impassively for a moment, then lifted the plate and cup and held it out to him. Feeling stunned with amazement, Ichigo took them and set them on the counter.  
  
This is a weird,  _weird_ situation, and he was starting to consider now, whether in all that panic, he'd let that weirdness get the best of him — he'd let his struggling brain bounce tiger-boy from one pole to the other, human, animal, back and forth again and again. But it's neither. A neko is a sum of those parts, and in his fear for his life, Ichigo may have written it off as a wild animal.

He'd forgotten that despite being a wild species, it is still as smart and as capable as any other neko, and he shouldn't be surprised that it was able to do things like that or understand very basic social cues like how to hand something to another person. It's not a pet neko that could be relied on to obey, but Ichigo still could've tried to reason with it — because in all likelihood, if he were to talk to it, it could probably understand him on some level.

All that time he’d spent scolding himself that it was pointless to talk to it because it couldn't reply, he should’ve talked to it _more._ That’s all he should’ve been doing is talking to it nonstop, try to calm it and tell it that it's safe with him; maybe he would’ve gotten to this point faster, the two of them in the kitchen together with no weapons drawn —because this isn’t much progress, but anything is better than being afraid it’ll kill him at any second.

The tiger lowered himself again, tail flicking uncertainly, and Ichigo sat down on the floor too. They stared at each other warily, neither knowing what to do next.

After a few moments of thought, Ichigo sighed. “Look,” he started, “I know this situation sucks, but sometimes that’s life. We all have to do things we don't want to do sometimes, and for now, we're stuck together — so I hope you’ll fucking cooperate, because if we’re gonna’ get through this, we have to trust each other.”   Because if he knows one thing, it’s that this can’t go on as it is. He’s already about to go crazy and it’s only been what, three days? He’ll start losing his hair like his dad.

It's not hard to fall into the illusion that it can reply to him verbally, and for a moment afterwards, Ichigo waited, half-expecting some kind of response — but the tiger just stared at him, blank and unreadable.

“You didn’t understand a word I just said, did you,” he groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. It blinked, tail flicking, but nothing else.

Since he’s ready to try pretty much anything at this point to try and break this tense standoff, Ichigo cautiously holds a hand out a little bit, y’know, for him to smell — like you would for a stranger's pet or a stray cat, so they can check you. He didn’t think that Stripes would actually do it, but you never know.

He held his hand out to him, waiting for something to happen. The tiger watched impassively for a long time, looking from his face to his hand repeatedly, seeming to have no understanding of Ichigo's intentions.

Just as he's about to retreat, to his surprise, it moved.

Breathlessly pleased and tingling with adrenaline, Ichigo held as still as he could, expecting him to lean in and sniff at the back of his hand, but instead, the tiger slowly lifts his own hand, reaches out tentatively.  
  


      Like… for a _handshake._

Ichigo stared, wide-eyed and numb — _‘He knows how to shake hands.’  
_

He hesitates then when Ichigo doesn’t move to reciprocate, drawing back a tiny bit, and it’s clear then that he's not just doing it like a dog will do a trick on command. He knows how to shake hands and knows what a handshake _means,_ because he withdraws as though he's realized he's made a mistake, has figured out that Ichigo had meant something else. He pulls away like he thinks Ichigo isn't going to  _let_ him — that he won’t let a neko shake his hand like a human.

Ichigo swallowed, and before his chance passed, he took his hand in his grasp. When he does, Stripes shakes his hand — firm and earnest; like he _means_ it and is trying to see if Ichigo means it too.  
  


     “Deal,” Ichigo says for both of them, gratified.  
  


This really seems to mean something to the neko, because it’s staring into Ichigo’s face with a sort of disbelief, and Ichigo wondered then if anyone in the world had ever bothered talking to him, had ever afforded him with such basic respect as to accept a handshake, as if he were an equal that one could make a deal with and trust. It's looking at Ichigo in a completely different way — and in that moment, the tiger isn’t a tiger. They're the same.

Ichigo returned it, because he did mean it, damn that was progress — he’d said they have to trust each other and it had pretty much told him, _‘okay, if you mean that then let’s shake on it.’_     Like _hell_ he’s not going to shake his hand.

They keep holding hands for a second afterwards, then let go. The animal cocked its head to the side, hand lingering there between them for a moment longer. It doesn’t smile, but it seems pleased, ears perking up.  
  


    Ichigo does smile.


	12. Chapter 12

     It’s a weird night.

Ichigo was sitting in his kitchen with a dangerous neko sitting across from him, no protective barrier between them, nothing to keep it from lunging and biting into him — he was about halfway sure that it wouldn’t, but it _could_ was the point, and if it did, it could cause a lot of damage. It's of tantamount importance that he keeps it calm, relax it as much as possible.

After they’d shaken hands, Ichigo had gotten up and sat in the kitchen chair, and then gestured with a nod of his head for the tiger to do the same. It stared at him for a long time, so long that Ichigo almost thought it must not understand what he meant, the same way a dog doesn't understand visual tracking, or say, the significance of pointing at an object. But Stripes did look to the chair eventually, brows scrunching as he looked at Ichigo again.

That was a pretty human expression right there: confusion, uncertainty, even _embarrassment._ Almost a look that said, ‘for real?’

“Go on,” Ichigo said, at which he stood up and put his fingers tentatively on the back of the chair, questioning and unsure, like he feels he must be mistaken in what he thinks Ichigo is telling him —  _is this what you want?_ _Can I really?_

“Go ahead,” he repeated, to encourage him.

The tiger bent his knees and slowly eased onto the chair, awkwardly, like its his first time, but once he settles, shifting until his tail isn’t caught underneath, he straightens up, looking pleased.

    Discounting the ears, tail, and skin markings, it’s really almost like being with a regular guy — a mute guy, but still.

Ichigo nodded in satisfaction, and then went to the sink, turned on the faucet, and ran the plate under it, rinsing it off. He jumped out of skin a second later when he saw the tiger in his periphery, who had crept the few paces after him — _that is some major stealth, he hadn’t heard a goddamn thing!_

It’s standing close to the counter, a few feet down from him, transfixed by the jet of water shooting from the faucet. _‘Huh?...’_  

Not seeing any reason not to, Ichigo backed away and held a hand out to show him he could feel free to take his place, which he does after a few seconds, approaching the basin.

He stuck his hand in, experimentally running his fingers through the beam, then touches his wet hand to his face — a second later, he bent and stuck his face in the sink, right under the faucet, mouth open. He snorted and coughed, shook himself as he sputtered, but his mouth gapes open as he licks at the faucet opening, splattering water everywhere.

Ichigo stared, a light huff of disbelieving laughter escaping, the corner of his mouth curling up. He reached out and pressed the faucet down, turning it off.

Tiger-boy stood up straight, dripping, eyes bright with curiosity, and a moment later, he reached out and copied him, popping the water on and off repeatedly and clearly enjoying it greatly.

It’s a weird surreal moment of amusement in the middle of this horror show — Ichigo realizes suddenly that he's actually got some personality. He’s kind of a funny guy when he’s not spazzing out and giving Ichigo a heartattack.

He popped the handle a few more times, already having realized that he could change the intensity of the stream by moving the handle halfway, or quarterway—  “You have to go back to your room,” Ichigo said.

He immediately let go of the faucet, and it keeps running, this blaring white noise in the periphery. He clearly understood enough of what he’d said, because his eyes flashed, his ears went down, fists clenched. His hackles raised, and oh boy, back to this already.

“Hey, I know you’re probably pissed, being locked up in here,” Ichigo acknowledged, hands up, trying to soothe it before things can get out of control again. “You’ve probably wanted to murder me in my sleep since you’ve gotten here.”

He trailed off a little sadly, because yeah, this situation sucks. He feels like the bad guy here, because all the reasons he has for telling him to go back in there are sort of mean, y’know — _I’m scared of you, you’re scary, you’re an animal, animals stay in their cage—_

“That’s what the shots are for, to make you too sleepy to want to eat me. But that’s why I have to keep you in there...”

It gave him a distinct and very human _glare,_ showing its teeth, and after clenching its hands uselessly for a second, it lifts one, then takes it in the other and mimics a handshake. Hot and accusing, his eyes seeks out Ichigo’s.

Ichigo stared wordlessly for a moment, because he's still surprised when it communicates with him, and at how effective it is in conveying its thoughts even with such a simple gesture.    _'I thought we had a deal. We shook on it.'_

“Trust…” He raised a hand to his hair, pulling at the back of it uneasily. “Yeah, but I…” Pressing his lips together, he relented, “Yeah okay, I did just say that, didn’t I…”

What are his other options though? He can’t just let it out permanently. He’d be _insane_ to let it do that!

But, like Grimmjow always said — read: _complained —_ Ichigo has this stubborn thing inside him that doesn’t let him do the wrong thing. That’s who he is, and breaking his promise felt _wrong._ Because he  _did_ shake this guy's hand and he's not going to go back on his word, goddamnit. So he searches frantically for an idea, some arrangement that could work — because he  _can't fucking let it stay out here._

“Okay, how about if you sleep in there, but…” He swallowed, grasping at straws, because why would it even agree to this? — “Would you be willing to go in there to sleep if I don’t lock the door anymore?”

He knows he’s being really foolish, but he doesn’t see what else he can do, just let it roam his house?

The tiger’s tail flicks, but it stops showing its teeth, shoulders dropping. It seemed satisfied with the idea, but suspicious, like it didn’t trust him to hold up his end of the deal. Honestly, Ichigo didn’t know how he was going to sleep soundly ever again if it meant he couldn’t lock him in, but he’s dug his own grave now, might as well lie in it.

“I know, it really sucks,” Ichigo agreed, seeing that it wasn’t happy, “but you won’t be here forever though. Soon you’ll be going to a better place, you’re gonna’ like it! You won’t have to be in a tiny cage anymore. They’ll take care of you…”

His brow creased in pity, struck with how sad of an existence this poor creature has lived. No matter how hard all of this is for him, he has to do what he can to help it get to safety, to _freedom._

“The men who brought you here, they’re working to get you free. I don’t know how long that will take,” he muttered, “but I hope while you’re here, we can be buddies.”

Tentatively, he offered, “My name’s Ichigo,” trailing off when he received a blank stare.

He knew that neko can understand simple human speech, but he didn’t know how much of that had gotten across, if at all. This is pointless.

He sighed roughly, closing his eyes for a brief moment and scrubbing at his hair. “Whatever, you can’t even understand me anyways. I know you can’t talk.”

 

  “Renji.”

 

Ichigo’s hand stopped dead on its way through his hair, eyes wide. “Did you just talk,” he accused.

It remained silent, glaring at him rather defensively.

“Do it again,” Ichigo urged, turning towards him, and maybe he's a bit overexcited, but everyone knows that neko can't fucking talk, this is incredible, it talked to him— “Say that again!”

He got to watch that time, staring in disbelief as the tiger’s mouth shaped around the word. “... Renji,” it said, almost hesitantly, moving its palm to its chest, like it thought Ichigo was kinda dumb and wasn’t getting the idea.

“Renji,” Ichigo repeated, and he watches as its ears perk with satisfaction.

Shit, he talked! He'd just talked to him! Ichigo took a step forward, coming to a jerky stop, trying to wrap his head around everything this means.

   _‘That’s his name,’_ Ichigo thinks, dumbstruck with wonder. _‘He has a name.’_

First, holy fuck, wow, secondly, _rewind,_ was he saying what Ichigo thought he was saying?

_  
‘I hope we can be buddies, my name’s Ichigo’ — ‘My name’s Renji.’_

 

            Holy mother  fuck.  
  
  
  
Thirdly — “You can understand me?”

Attentive eyes flashing, it looked into his face, expression dubious but a touch hopeful. And to his amazement, it talks _again.  
_

“Ichigo,” it said, and it moved its hand out like it was going to touch his chest too, but stopped a few inches short, palm splayed — like he’s still scared to touch him, but really wants to tell him, _buddies._

   “Yeah,” Ichigo said, staring breathlessly. “... Yeah.” He smiled.

Renji slowly lifted the corners of his lips, showing his teeth, but not in a snarl — he smiled back.


	13. Chapter 13

    It was all well and good to tell a dangerous animal that they were going to trust each other, but that night when Renji went into his room as per their agreement — and graciously chose to shut the door — Ichigo couldn’t fall asleep.

He laid awake and listened for any sound that would alert him that the tiger has gotten up and was trying to leave out the front door, or come to his room to get him — fuck, he’s an idiot, it’s gonna’ kill him once he falls asleep, don’t fall asleep—  


It was a restless night, the likes of which he hadn't seen since he was a kid who still got nightmares and stayed awake, afraid of the dark. Eventually, he'd managed to drift off, and then woke up with a start some hours later in the early morning.  
  
  
_‘Well, guess I’m alive.’_  
  
  
He got up for work, showered, dressed, and then came out to eat breakfast. When he heard the door open, he looked up and stopped what he was doing, taking a few steps so he could see around the corner of the kitchen doorway. He watched cautiously as Renji slowly poked his head out of his room, peering down the hallway towards him. He met Ichigo's eye, as if to ask if he’d be welcome to come out.

He'd had a long time to think about it last night, and Ichigo wants to make his best effort to treat Renji with kindness while he's here. Maybe it's all the excitement of the day before, realizing that Renji was capable of simple speech, but it had caused some sort of mental shift. It was hard now to see him as just an animal, and not as a  _peer —_ another human. An animal capable of speech showed incredible intelligence and sensitivity, and the fact that Renji could  _verbally respond,_ that was absolutely fucking amazing and destroyed everything he's ever known and thought about neko.  
  
As far as Ichigo, no one in the entire body of the world's scientists had ever observed a neko speak, but Renji had talked to Ichigo. Seeing it happen had been completely surreal, like an animal movie where they use CGI to make the dogs talk — or more accurately, it was like seeing an animal speak whose mouth is similar enough to a human's, like a gorilla or a chimpanzee, so similar that it seems like it  _should_ be able to talk, yet still can't, because even though the physical capability is there, the mental structure was not. 

The idea that a neko could talk, could understand speech and the meaning behind words, and then put its own thoughts in order and communicate those thoughts back to him — the implications of that are enormous.  
  
  
   Because something that can talk isn't an animal anymore.  
  


Technically, humans are animals too, but they're set apart due to their unique brain structure — and it stood to reason that any animal advanced enough to communicate with humans in the human way, they're no longer just an animal. That's something special that should be protected and valued, and for the time that Renji's here, even though they're both kind of wary of each other, Ichigo wants to be nice to him, wants them to try and understand each other as much as possible — because if they can understand each other, that means they can get along. 

So when Renji poked his head out, Ichigo approached, thinking about coaxing him out so he can feed him while he eats his own breakfast, but as he came up to the door, he immediately wrinkled his nose at the smell coming from the room, stronger than ever now. Renji seemed uncertain, because he moved a little further behind the door, almost completely out of sight. He shifted uncomfortably, and as Ichigo waited to see if he was going to come out, he covered himself with his hands — and after all of last night's deliberations, seeing Renji do that, it rubs him the wrong way.

That weird moment when he’d found Renji lying in the contents of his dresser came back to him. He'd already had a hunch at the time, this sinking feeling in his gut that had told him the reason Renji had wanted them, and it wasn't a huge stretch. It’s not like neko don’t usually wear clothes. They’re often dressed up on TV for the sake of modesty, but an animal in its natural state has no use for clothes. Ichigo hadn’t really paid mind to Renji being that way until now, not really registering it as  _nudity,_  but now that Ichigo knows he has a name, now that they’re _buddies…  
_

Renji avoids his gaze, his eyes flicking away, his shoulders hunched inwards as he cups his hands over himself. Maybe it's because he's standing up and he's on Ichigo's eye level, but he looks so human in that moment, reacting exactly as Ichigo would himself if _he_ were standing there exposed — he’d feel awkward, maybe even a little ashamed. How else should he feel, he's completely naked.

The guy’s been like that the whole time he’s been here and it hadn’t bothered Ichigo one bit, but now it seemed mean-spirited. Renji's smart enough to think, and talk, and he has enough self-awareness to feel shame. Human or not, someone able to do all those things deserves a little modesty, don't they?  
  


Deciding to put that to one side for now so he could think on it more later, Ichigo smiled a bit. "Morning," he greeted him, but Renji just squirms a little, retreating a tiny bit. "You wanna' come out for awhile?" Ichigo tries, coughing a little and waving a hand to try to clear the air. "Ah geez, that's intense..."

Renji’s ears went back, his shoulders hunching a little more. He shied away, looking humiliated. "No, hey, it's okay, you're not in trouble," Ichigo tried weakly, plugging his nose. "I'm not mad at you." Renji slowly straightened back up, and his own nose wrinkled in agreement. He brought one of his hands up, pressing the back of it to his face, a sudden reminder of how much stronger his sense of smell was than Ichigo’s — which means priority one when he came home from work was cleaning Renji's room.

Renji stank too, if he’s honest — like body odor and unwashed hair and _urine,_ and damn, it’s _eyewatering._ He completely stank, and Ichigo wondered vaguely how hard it would be to try and get him to take a bath, but that was a battle for when he came home.

Ichigo stood there in thought for a moment more as Renji squirmed wordlessly, leaning from foot to foot. He's probably been trying to hold it the past few days, stuck in there with no fresh air, completely miserable — so Ichigo said, “Come on.”

Renji hesitantly followed, stepping out into the hallway after a bit more encouragement. Ichigo opened the sliding door of the toilet compartment to let him see, feeling a bit like a new cat owner showing his pet the litter box.  
  


When he got a silent reaction, Ichigo awkwardly tried, “You, uh… You know how to use this?”  
  


Renji looked at him for a second, then shuffled forward and reached out, touching the lid. He sniffed the air lightly, then he lifted it up and looked in. Ichigo shifts uncertainly — does he even know what it is?... Please say he does.

“Is that a yes?” Ichigo wondered, sheesh, he’s a quiet guy, huh?  “You can just nod or shake, if you want.”

Renji doesn't nod his head but he does reach out and touch the biggest button on the toilet panel, the one that flushes it. He looks back at Ichigo, taking his hand away again. "Yeah, that's right," Ichigo agrees, relieved.

That’s good. He doesn’t know where Renji must have picked up that knowledge, but he doesn’t care, because Ichigo doesn’t want to demonstrate the fucking toilet. This is really good.

“Well, when you need it... y'know, feel free,” Ichigo told him as he backed out, standing next to him.

Renji gave him this weird look, and Ichigo watched as he raised his hand, all his fingertips close together as he lightly touched his chest with them, questioningly. More of a _‘me?’_ gesture than anything else. 

"Yeah," Ichigo says, and Renji perked up, seeming a little excited. Ichigo narrowed his eyes a little, shifting uneasily.

 _‘What the fuck,’_ he thought for a second, because there's only one possible explanation: Renji has never used a water closet before, and it was likely the same for any other human appliance. He doesn't know how Renji even knows what it is or what it's for, but he clearly does, and has clearly never been allowed to use it — there's no other way he should be happy about something like that.

It hadn’t really occurred to him before; it was such a basic thing that separated animals from humans — having agency, enough that one may use the restroom in privacy.

Ichigo doesn't like the way that conclusion feels. Surely a neko deserved that much dignity. If he's able to use the toilet, why shouldn't he be allowed? Ichigo hadn’t thought about it before, but now that he knows Renji a little bit, it seemed cruel somehow, to force an intelligent creature like him to void like an animal, to soil himself.

With an uncomfortable jolt, he remembered the way Renji had glared at him so hatefully last night, when he’d placed his plate of food on the floor, the way he’d knelt down at his feet and eaten there. He realized then that he must’ve felt humiliated, _degraded._  


  Ichigo squared his shoulders.  


“Renji,” he announced, making a point to call him by his name, satisfied with the way Renji held his head up and straightened his back a little more each time. “I’m going to work!”

Renji seemed uneasy at this prospect, eyeing him dubiously. To be honest, it's the first time Ichigo's left the house with him not either high as a kite or locked in his room, and he should probably be a little more apprehensive, but his mind's made up.

“I’m coming back later today,” he told him. “You stay here. I’ll bring food tonight. Don’t go outside.”

He repeated, “You stay here,” just to be sure he got that part, because that was the most important. He kind of wanted a verbal response, but Renji didn’t really react. “... Show me you understand what I’m saying.”

Renji touched his chest with his fingertips in the same way as before, then squatted and knocked the flat of his fist on the floor.

Satisfied, Ichigo shut the door to his bedroom, hoping Renji would get the hint to stay out of there while he was gone. He left out a small plate of cold meat and a glass of water — it’s cooked ham, not raw, but it’s what he’s got.  


He has a very productive day, and that afternoon after work, determined, Ichigo marched through the grocery store, stocking up on meat — good ones, not just the discount stuff, stripsteak, rib-roast, chicken filets, pork cutlets. He also stopped off at a shopping arcade on the way back, grabbing a few other items, judging by sight mainly, throwing it into his basket after a moment’s thought.

When he got home, he was a bit apprehensive to open the front door, a small part of him wondering if he was going to come in and find Renji had gone — but when he came in, he saw Renji had been lying in the hallway, tail flicking boredly. His head lifts immediately at Ichigo's return.

"Hey there," Ichigo greeted. "I'm back."

Renji's eyes are bright as he stands up and approaches a few feet, still keeping his distance but leaning in a bit to try and smell him. Ichigo carried his bags to the kitchen and stocked the fridge with the meat, stuffing it into every available space and putting the few remaining in the freezer.  “Hungry? I am,” he said absently.

He made them a quick dinner, and they sat together and ate at the table. Ichigo doesn’t have a particularly weak stomach, but he still looks away occasionally as Renji rips into a nice T-bone, raw and red. Otherwise, it’s nice, to have a meal sitting across from someone.

There’s still a barrier of distrust there. They don’t get too close to one another, don’t touch each other, and it was _tense_ at times, but it’s much better. Ichigo had stopped being scared for his life every second. He’s over fifty percent sure he can trust Renji not to kill him or try to escape the apartment.  


Maybe that’s what they call a false sense of security — who knows. Grimmjow calls him a soft-hearted fool, and maybe it's true, maybe he's too trusting, but Ichigo thinks no one should ever have to apologize for showing kindness, even if it means he's naive at times. He and Renji have a deal, after all.  
  


Once they were done eating, he gives Renji some time to strip and gnaw on the bone, letting him chew and crunch it up while he washed their plates. Eventually, he convinces him to relinquish it, and places it on a napkin for him so he can snack on it later. 

“I got you this," Ichigo said, sitting across from him. He reached into the remaining shopping bag and held out a hairbrush and comb. “Looks kinda’ matted up,” he noted, pointing vaguely.

Renji doesn’t reach to take it from his hand. _‘I guess we’re not there yet — no big deal.’_ He set it on the table, and Renji picked it up a few seconds later.

He put it to his nose to give it a brief sniff, and he must know what it’s for, because he brought it to his head and touched it to his hair.

He seemed to be reading Ichigo’s face to see if he’s gotten it right, because after a second, he holds a piece of his hair and tries to pull it through the brush, but it’s really tangled up _thick,_  so it just gets stuck. Renji tugs and yanks it off, getting a little bit of whiplash.  


“I think it needs a wash first,” Ichigo muttered thoughtfully. He’ll have to hose Renji down later, if he’ll let him. First thing’s first. Time to clean the room.  


Ichigo put on a sick mask and rubber gloves, and then entered Renji’s room, which smelled like a sewage pit. The ammonia was enough to make his eyes water as he dragged the kiddy pool out, bending it in the middle to fit it through the doorway, and then hauled it to the bathroom.

Circling back, he sprayed some disinfectant on the floor in Renji’s room, wiping it with paper towels, and then he set up an oscillating fan in the doorway to air it out while he changed the case on the futon pad and put some clean sheets on it, throwing a pillow on top.

Once Ichigo went back into the bathroom, Renji, who had been observing at a distance up to this point, head going back and forth as he watched him go, couldn't see him anymore from his previous vantage point. Ichigo glanced back, to find that he had trailed behind him with a hesitant curiosity.

Ichigo let him follow into the bathroom, but got to business, holding the pool up on its side over the drain, and then used the detachable showerhead to wash it out. It didn’t take long at all really, but Renji was staring at it so fixedly that after a moment’s pause, Ichigo held it out to him to see if he wanted it.

Renji wouldn’t take it at first, hesitating and taking his hand back many times, clearly _dying_ to accept it but likely trying to avoid touching Ichigo’s hand. Eventually, he reached out and grabbed it, and out of consideration, Ichigo quickly pulled his own hand away.

Ichigo watched him hold it, press the button to turn on the spray just like he had done, and aim it at the pool. He clicked the button a few times to get the hang of it, changing the different spray intensities and diligently copying what Ichigo had done, washing the already-clean bottom of the pool — he lasts a couple seconds, and then breaks and turned the nozzle around, using it to spray himself in the face.

He sputtered, snorted, shook his wet head zealously, holding the sprayer overhead to douse himself under it, completely soaked in a matter of moments. Ichigo laughed, sitting on the bathroom stool and watching Renji wriggle with joy on the tiled floor. Looked like it wouldn’t be hard to make him take a bath after all.

At the sound of his laughter, Renji’s eyes rise to him, and he lifted it and sprayed it at him too, smiling.

Ichigo stood up, his clothes soaked, and pulled off his mask, wiping his face. “Pff-” he spat in surprise, “Hey! What the fuck!”

Renji frowned in dismay, pointing it at the ground and drawing back a little, and Ichigo can see that he hadn't expected him to be upset. He must've thought Ichigo would like it, and probably had just been trying to be nice.

“My clothes are all wet,” Ichigo mumbled, cooling his temper, and held his hand out. Woefully, Renji gave the sprayer back to him, clearly expecting Ichigo to scold him, maybe even _strike_ him, because his shoulders are tense and his ears are back, the corners of his mouth slightly curled up, ready to hiss in distress.

"Aw, c'mon, that's enough," he blows off, ignoring the heavy pounding of his heart that instinctively begins every time Renji flashes his teeth. _'_ _Talk to him,'_ he reminded himself, _'Just talk to him, calm him down.'_  
  
"No big deal," he reassures him, and Renji's ears are still back, but he closes his mouth.

Ichigo turned the spray on again, grabbed the bodysoap, and held the beam of water towards Renji, who slowly crept under it, seeming to understand. Ichigo drizzled some soap onto his head and his back, and then, knowing Renji wouldn’t appreciate it if he tried to wash him himself, he made a motion at his own hair to tell him to scrub. Renji does.

Ichigo hosed him down until he’s squeaky clean and shiny, his hair combing through easy, a big knot of it sitting in the drain that he threw out along with his gloves and mask. He cleans up good. Renji really is pretty handsome.  


And he's funny — Renji snorted and squirmed every time Ichigo tried to turn the water off, giving him a pitiful sulky puppy eyes. _‘That’s right,’_ Ichigo remembered. _‘Tigers love water.’_  


He let Renji play and enjoy himself for a few more minutes, and then shut the water off. “C’mon.” He gave him a body towel and Renji gave an effort of wiping himself with it, but eventually gave in to shaking himself wildly to dry, his hair whipping back and forth, the little tufts of fur in his ears and on his shoulders wisping and standing up. His mood seemed much better too, along with his appearance; happy to be clean and fresh. It’s cute, even for such a big guy.  
  
  
“C’mon, I picked up a couple of things for you.”  


Renji followed him into the living room, dripping a trail behind him in the hall that Ichigo would have to go back and wipe up before one of them slipped, because the puddles were too big to dry on their own.

Ichigo sat on the floor with him and handed him the bag. Renji reached out and took it, held it for a second, then carefully opened it and looked inside. He drew out the contents.

He held it for another silent moment, staring blankly, then fully opened up the novelty t-shirt Ichigo had picked, the plastic 3-pack of underwear and socks, and the sweatpants. He stared uncomprehendingly.  


“Are you gonna’ put it on?” Ichigo wondered after a moment. Maybe he'd been mistaken before. “... Do you not want it?”  
  


Renji was heaving a little, chest puffing in and out, and then he lifted the fabric to his nose to smell. He lowered it and moved his hand to his chest again — _'_ _F_ _or me?' —_ and looked into Ichigo’s face imploringly.

He was looking at him in a way Ichigo had never seen before. He’d gotten a glimpse of it during their handshake, but this is something different, open and raw, so much pain, so much _hope._  


“Yeah,” Ichigo said breathlessly, “Go ahead an’ put it on.”  


Renji flings his body out in a rush, and Ichigo snapped back in surprise, watching as Renji shoved his head into the shirt, pulling it wildly, trying futilely to get his arms through the holes. Then he put both feet in the pants, pushing them out the bottom, and slid them up his legs with ease.

Ichigo held out the underpants to him again and Renji tore the package open, pulling the pants back off, picking an underwear — the red ones with the little lightning bolts — and then dressed himself. He put the socks on too, gratuitous about it, eager and satisfied once he was done.

He stood up and looked down at himself, his tail thumping wildly in the pant leg of his sweats. He’s a mess, honestly — his hair has already soaked the shoulders and back of his shirt, his pants are kind of bunched at the ankles, but he looks unbearably happy _._

Renji heaved, a breath coming out low and rough, and then he started rolling and jumping around, leaping onto Ichigo’s couch, nearly toppling it as he tumbled about the room.  


“Okay, easy tiger,” Ichigo laughed, “Whoa,” he muttered a little nervously, but he can’t deny he felt elated at Renji’s excited reaction.  


Ichigo brought him to the bathroom mirror, letting him stand in front of it, and watched as Renji’s smile faded. He looked at himself for a long time, then slowly picked a hand up and touched his face. Then he reaches for the glass, crowds against it until it fogs.

His jaw shifted, he blinked, nose scrunching minutely. He fists his hands in the front of his clothes, hunching inward, then let out a slow breath, standing up straight with his shoulders back.    


“Ichigo,” he murmured softly, turning towards him a little, as if he wanted to show him, _‘Look — look at me.’_  


“Yeah,” Ichigo said, feeling kind of choked up. Renji smiled at him, then smiled at himself, this heartbreaking happy thing.  
  


      That night, Ichigo took the pool out to the dumpster.


	14. Chapter 14

    The next few days are much better.  


Ichigo didn’t have to constantly agonize and stress and worry, timing himself, counting the hours until he had to get another dose of sedative into an animal that will kill him if he didn’t keep it too drugged up to move.

In the first day or so after buying Renji his clothes, Renji has mostly kept to his room anyways, seeming to enjoy the sheets and pillow placed on his bed. He stayed in there, barring trips to the bathroom, but he kept the door open and often peeked out.

They’ve said they were going to trust each other, they’d shook on it — and Ichigo had meant what he’d said, but of course, it isn’t that easy, and he’s still quite cautious, because a handshake didn’t change the fact that Renji could kill him if he chose to — he could cause a lot of damage, even just from getting scared at the wrong moment. Now that he had regained his strength and was eating regularly, fully alert and rested, he’s more dangerous than ever.

Even so, they’re getting easier in each other’s company. Renji’s actually a pretty nice guy, he keeps to himself, and doesn’t do anything threatening to make Ichigo feel like he’s in danger around him.

That being said, it’s easy for Ichigo to start getting a little too comfortable, but there are frightening reminders — it usually happens due to the reverse. Renji behaves as though he is the one in danger and often gets scared, and in so doing, he ends up scaring Ichigo. It’s hard not to when Renji shows he’s afraid by hissing and _growling_ and showing his fucking teeth like he’s about to snap at him.

The guy has a kind of volatile personality, ranging anywhere from shy and skittish to hostile and aggressive, and it changed on a hairpin trigger.  


   Now for instance.  


Ichigo was in the living room, and looked up when he heard Renji come down the hall, silent but for the squeaky floorboard, which Renji looked down at with betrayal. He stood in the doorway of the hall for a few moments, uncertain.

Ichigo smiled a little, wondering if Renji kept to his own space so much because he felt like he might not be welcome in the open. "You can come out if you want," he says, and when he smiled again, Renji hesitantly approached him where he sat on the couch with his book, leaned in a little to try and look at it.

Ichigo held it out to him to show him, maybe a little too quickly, because Renji recoiled so violently that one would’ve thought Ichigo had just raised a hand to strike him. He hissed and _snarled.  
_

They both froze and stared at each other, and Ichigo withdrew his hand slowly, swallowing hard, heart pounding in his ears, _fucking shit—  
_

The raised hairs on Renji’s shoulders settled down and his ears went back as he closed his mouth, looking vaguely guilty. He settled down on the floor then, but kept his distance.

Ichigo sees it for what it is after a moment: an uneasy truce — _‘I will share space with you, but do not cross my boundaries.’_

At first, Ichigo had chalked up Renji’s cagey attitude entirely to being a wild animal rather than a more docile species of neko. Tigers aren’t domesticated even if they are kept as pets from birth. Renji is and always will be a wild animal.  


  But it becomes clear that it’s more than just that.  


As Renji starts to venture out of his room more and more, Ichigo noticed that he'd taken to sitting near the grate a lot, the one on the wall just next to the kitchen. He’ll sit there and stare at it, tail slowly flicking back and forth, dusting the floor.  When Ichigo came home from work and saw this, he groaned and muttered, “Great, that probably means there’s mice.” Renji had looked up at him, straightening up, ears perking, and then crouched eagerly in front of the grate, crowding around it and staring through the slits in the vent.

Ichigo hasn’t turned on the TV since Renji got here, because he’s an easily startled animal, and he didn’t want to spook or overstimulate him now that he was loose in the house — which means he reads a lot instead, and sits in the living room where it’s easy to see Renji camp there by the heating grate.

At last Ichigo sighed and marked his place in his book, standing up to start dinner. _‘The fridge looks more like a meatlocker now,’_ he thought absently as he opened it and looked in.

He made himself a plate of something, and opened up a pack of meat for Renji: five spareribs, raw, still connected so that Renji could enjoy tearing them up himself and chew the bones.

Renji clearly smells his dinner, because he’s squirming around, enticed into straying a few paces from the grate, but then circled back stubbornly, rooted to the spot. Ichigo walked over to him and set the plate down next to him where he was determinedly staring down the air vent, crouched in front of it, head on his hands as he kneaded the floor. One shoulder blade pops up, then the other, eye strained down the ventilation shaft.  


“You hungry?”  


He's since discovered that Renji does know how to nod his head, because sometimes he will. He does now, chin bobbing against his hands as he peered down the grate intently, but he didn’t move to take the plate.  
  
“Dedicated hunter, I see,” Ichigo noted. Renji’s tail went up in pride, waving happily.

Ichigo smiled a little, because he’s really kind of sweet sometimes, isn’t he. Renji’s pretty cute.

He reflexively reached out to put a hand on Renji’s head, maybe ruffle his hair and ears like he would do to a puppy, to a kid — it’s meant in affection, but just as he’s about to touch him, Renji leapt back, yowling and hissing loudly, all his friendliness dropped in an instant.

“I’m sorry,” Ichigo breathed, petrified, and Renji stops immediately. His ears go back and he looked away, almost as if he were embarrassed.

He held out a hand flat as if to say _stop, stay back,_ and Ichigo nodded. “Okay.” He swallowed. “Okay.”

Renji raised his eyes to him hesitantly, ears still folded back. He seemed uncertain, like he  thinks Ichigo is mad at him. Ichigo nudged the plate towards him again, and Renji reached out and took the edge that was close to him, pulling it towards him. They smile at each other. _‘Truce.’_  


It’s a string of small incidents like that where Renji will snap at him all of a sudden and then show immediate remorse, it's those times that make Ichigo realize there was a reason this neko in particular had been chosen for rescue by an undercover police operation.  


     Renji was… _abused._   Badly.  
  
  
Which makes him all the more determined to do his part for this operation to go smoothly. Renji needed to get where he needs to go as soon as possible, where he can be rehabilitated and taken care of by professionals. It was heartbreaking to see him flinch back, yowl, and roar in fear each time he thought Ichigo was going to touch him. It tore him up inside because he can _see_ how much Renji wants to be his friend, he can see it from the way he keeps creeping back, keeps coming out, preferring to be together with Ichigo more than shutting himself in his room. Ichigo can see how hard he tries, but he just can’t trust him enough to let him that close, can't let Ichigo touch him even for an instant.

Ichigo wants him to be able to go to a place like that, where he can’t be hurt by humans ever again. Where he doesn’t have to be afraid.  


He called Grimmjow later.  


Grimmjow picked up. “Talk to me.”  


“So he got out of the room,” Ichigo said, not beating around the bush.  
  


 _“FUCK!—”_ After the surprised shout, Grimmjow followed up with a quieter, _“fuck.”_ Ichigo rolled his eyes, because it's way too late for that kind of reaction.

Skipping the typical rant of about he's a complete fucking moron, what the hell is wrong with him, et cetera, Grimmjow muttered, “Well you’re obviously alive, so what happened.”

He’s fed up, because Grimmjow’s the one who gave him this highly dangerous job, he had _no_ right to be surprised that something had gone wrong or to be worried that Ichigo had almost died. He really is just done at this point, doesn’t even want to talk about it, let's stop rehashing how crazy this situation is over and over and just get to what mattered.

“Grimmjow, you have to come get him soon,” Ichigo said in a deadpan, rubbing his brow. “This is way too much to handle.” He's  _so_ not qualified to deal with any neko at all, let alone a traumatized abused one. This time he's not saying it because he's fearing for his own safety, but out of concern for Renji. Ichigo doesn't know how to help him.

“No, how the fuck are you not dead?" Grimmjow demands, not letting it drop. "You got it back in? What the fuck happened?”

“Grimm, you have to get him.”

“Fuck, Kurosaki, what've you been _doing?_  You still have the gun, right? What, did you just tranq him and drag him back in? You'd better have barricaded it in, this is not the time to fuck around." 

“It’s not that simple.”      It’s not, because the handshake — because they’re _buddies,_ he’d promised, and Ichigo always means it when he promises shit. He can't go back to how they were in the first days, drugging Renji and keeping him locked up.

“Because you're not letting it be fucking simple. You're overthinking this, it’s just an animal,” and it’s clear then why Grimmjow thinks this is simpler than it is. He really thinks all Ichigo has to do is grow some balls and shoot Renji, put him back, and keep the house on lockdown, like one would if they were housing an _actual_ tiger — because Grimmjow really did just see Renji as an animal, not a person.

He hasn't talked to Renji, hasn't seen how his eyes had filled with tears and his back had straightened with pride upon seeing himself in the mirror, he doesn't know Renji has a name — but Ichigo does.  


“He’s not just an animal. He’s intelligent. Sensitive,” Ichigo tried to explain.  


Grimmjow’s voice was cold then, emotionless, _really serious —_ “It might seem that way. Neko can be taught to do tricks, sure. You can dress them up like dolls and train them to act like humans really convincingly — but they’re _not people._ Don’t forget that Ichigo.” Ichigo held the phone to his ear, staring unseeingly, lips parted.

“You’re smarter than it is. It’s just another animal. It can’t even talk.”

That’s when he grit his teeth. “Whatever,” Ichigo muttered. “When are you coming to get him.”

Grimmjow was silent for a beat, as if he wanted to say more, like he knew he hadn’t gotten through to him. “Soon,” he finally said. “Our first priority is getting the tiger to safety, but we also have to make sure the bastard who was keeping him doesn’t have an out afterwards.”

“What do you mean exactly.”

“We’re trying to get a warrant,” he clarified. “Right to seize documents. So in case anything happens, he can be taken to court.”

“... In case what happens.”

It’s the question he had to ask and the one Grimmjow obviously didn’t want him to ask, because all he said was, “Nevermind.”

“Whatever, just get here as quick as you can,” he muttered.

“It’s taking longer than expected — but don’t worry. I can send you more sedative,” Grimmjow said, as if that was some consolation.

Uneasily, Ichigo shifted. “I don’t think I’ll need much more,” he told him, intentionally refraining from explaining more than was needed.  
  
“What?” Grimmjow said incredulously, like he thought he’d lost it. “I mean, you said it got out, but are you fucking _insane?_ ...”

There’s a moment of silence in which Ichigo knew Grimmjow was doing that thing he does when he’s suddenly realized something that he shouldn’t have been able to intuit; narrowed his eyes in suspicion and then suddenly accused, “You didn’t _leave_ it out.”  


“...”  


“Kurosaki.”  


“What?” Ichigo muttered, “Get off my back. Things have been… fine.”  


Groaning like Ichigo was the one taking years off his life and not the other way around, Grimmjow grit out, “I swear to god, if you go and die, you fucking idiot, I’ll kick your ass.” That’s what he says, but Ichigo knows what it means.

      _‘I’m worried about you. Don’t let me down.’_  


“It’s fine,” Ichigo insisted. “It is!” he repeated when Grimmjow was notably silent. "He's actually pretty cool."

“It's not a fucking puppy, it will tear off your fucking face, you—" He sighs roughly. "I can't talk about this shit with you right now. Just don’t let your guard down, Kurosaki.”     
  
      _‘You’re my only friend.’_  


“I won’t,” Ichigo said.  


He hung up the phone.  


Ichigo glanced over, watching as Renji, loping around on the floor, reached up and nudged his empty plate — carefully licked clean — onto the counter. A moment later, he stood up going to place it in the sink, then considered, and instead put it on the stack of clean plates in the cupboard and closed the door.

He stood there with his tail up, looking pleased with himself, then settled on the floor with the rib bones, crunching and gnawing away.

 

    _‘They’re not people.’_


	15. Chapter 15

Some time back, a bunch of countries in Europe went to the UN with a push for personhood — but it had been a hopeless venture, no more possible than the hope for world peace coexisting with a pervasive military-industrial complex.

For one, it didn’t have a lot of popular support since it wasn’t a people’s issue and didn’t affect ordinary citizens, the majority of whom have never seen a real neko. Without that political pressure from the general public, the only pressure left came from the other side — the side that _didn’t_ want neko to receive personhood.

The real problem was the reach the rich had in politics, and the rich did _not want_ personhood.

The higher-ups in Saudi Arabia, America, China, Qatar, UAE, Israel, Japan, and many others where the megarich — whether they went by the official title of ‘mafia’ or not — that ultimately held power over the government worked the magic only money could. They’d made sure that the initiative was stopped in its tracks, through bargaining, political favors, blackmail — no holds barred.

Because if their pets were given personhood and all the rights that came with it, their fun would be over. They’d have to let them go.

Ichigo has thought neko were cool since he was a kid, read a lot about them and enjoyed their media depictions, but he’d never thought much on the personhood debate.

But last night, the way Renji had looked at himself in the mirror, brought to tears at the sight of himself in clothes, like it was the first time he’d ever worn something and was so moved by being given that small dignity that it was this special thing — Ichigo felt rotten, confronting the uncomfortable realization for the first time and looking at it from a different angle.

Renji might not be a human, but he’s not like other animals. It seemed wrong to treat him as a being without dignity, a commodity there for the pleasure and disposal of humans.  

    _‘They’re not people.’_

If Renji isn’t a person, he’s close to it, close enough to make it wrong to treat him like an animal — which threw Ichigo into a moral quandary without a solution.  
  
Because there's no way for him to do the right thing in this situation. He can't make the world recognize Renji as a person, can't set him free from the cage he was born into. There's nothing to do but take part, operate in tune with the machine, and try to send Renji to that far off place — they'll take care of him, but even there, he will still be an animal.

It's the least bad option they have.

. . .

 

He ended up overstepping his boundaries again, as he was bound to eventually.

Renji had been pulling on his ear a lot. He's spent all afternoon tentatively sticking his fingers in and scratching at it in annoyance. He even began rubbing his head on the floor miserably.

“Why are you doing that?” Ichigo asked him. These days, he tries to talk to Renji a lot. It's reason enough to do so, simply for the fact that he knows Renji can understand him. Sadly, despite this, he only ever actually _responds_ to Ichigo around ten percent of the time. In any case, being talked to seems to calm him down. Ichigo's guessing that it's because talking to him reassures Renji that he has a mechanism to communicate, if he so chooses — that Ichigo will listen to him if he tries to tell him something.

He's probably not used to having the option, not used to being treated like anything other than a dumb animal who can't understand, so he's largely taken on that role, desensitized to it, tuning out human speech because at this point he instinctively assumes,  _they're not talking to me._

Ichigo's pretty sure that's why Renji rarely pays much attention, just letting his words phase through, listening without recognition— so Ichigo keeps trying, because he's  _so ready_ for Renji to realize that he will pay attention to him, that he cares about his thoughts and feelings. He wants to be able to have a conversation with him, however basic, because he knows that Renji _can._

"What's wrong with your ear?" he wondered, hoping Renji will react, because he wants to help. Has he hurt himself?

As usual, Renji made no attempt to communicate his discomfort, ignoring him in favor of continued scratching. He grit his teeth and dragged his ear on the carpet, grinding his head against the ground.

When he kept doing it, Ichigo tried, "Renji, what’s the matter?” because it helps to get his attention if he uses his name first. “C’mere, show me.” Renji picked his head up, and there it is, there's always little signs that Renji's listening on some level, that he knows what he's saying even though he's not paying him any mind.

He looks into Ichigo's face and then cupped a hand over the ear that was bothering him, patting it, tugging on it —  _'My ear, my ear is bad!'_

"Here, lemme' see," Ichigo coaxed. Renji shied back a little when he took a few steps towards him and squatted on the floor next to him. He was pretty tense, but held still, letting Ichigo get closer.

Ichigo brought his hand up, trying to take his ear, and Renji didn't move away, but he began to growl, showing his teeth, eyes widening. “No, it’s okay — I just want to look inside your ear,” Ichigo told him.

Renji stopped growling, so Ichigo leaned in, trying to take a look without touching, which was hard without being able to manipulate and fold the ear back. The white fluff of hair on the inside made it pretty much impossible. “I think I see something. Just a sec.’”

Renji was holding so still that Ichigo thought he was telling him it was okay to touch him, so he did, putting his hand to Renji's ear. Mistakenly, he didn't realize that Renji holding still was actually Renji _coiling up,_  because out of nowhere, he snapped, roaring and striking out, his claws ripping along Ichigo's arm in a sudden vicious swipe —  _'Get away from me!'_

Ichigo pulled away, holding his arm to his front. “Ow, fuck—” That really stings. “Ow, ow, ow,” he hissed, and it’s really not that bad, the blow had hurt more than anything. The scratches were barely bleeding, but he already felt a bruise swelling up — Renji had hit him pretty hard, just once, a defensive lashout before immediately retreating.

"Shit, that stings," he breathed, squeezing his arm.

Renji’s ears were down, and he looked guilty, _stricken_ even. He put a hand out, creeping back to Ichigo, but didn’t approach any further.

“Heh,’” he forced, trying to calm him down. “Hey, it’s okay,” Ichigo told him. “I’m okay, I’m okay.” He showed Renji his arm, because he kept craning his neck to try and check on him.

Renji leaned closer to look at the scratches, frowning sadly, and Ichigo blinked as he tentatively stuck out his tongue and leaned closer like he was thinking about licking him, but then changed his mind. _‘Sorry,’_ his expression cried, hands clenching uselessly,  _‘Sorry, sorry!’_

“It’s okay, I didn’t mean to surprise you, I shouldn’t have— I just wanted to help...” Ichigo paused as Renji lifted his face to his.

They meet eyes, and it’s a sudden start, surprising him more than Renji having clawed his arm — his gaze, the red orange glow of his eyes, the thing that always brings Ichigo back to reality.   _He’s not a human. He’s not like me._

Ichigo opened his mouth, not able to find the words, and in that moment, the spell breaks, and Renji’s face contorts with shame. He pulled back, turning tail, and hid away in his room.

Ichigo sighed, shoulders slumping, arm burning.

 

_‘They’re not people. Don’t forget that.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys please remember to comment, lemme know how I'm doing. i talked a lot of shit at the start about how i'm going to write a neko au that's actually _good_ so yall can't let me fall for the usual pitfalls of the genre.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the feedback my dudes, it's really appreciated. 5 com on one chapter, sheesh, you guys spoiled me, so i'll spoil you back.
> 
> i think you're gonna really enjoy this chapter.

    After that incident, Ichigo gives Renji some space.  


In lieu of pestering Renji directly and agitating him further, Ichigo ended up reading a little more of Renji’s file — because he thinks he’s not handling this as well as he could be if he just understood Renji a little better.

Cat body language is difficult to understand even in housepets, and Ichigo knew he was in over his head. He didn’t understand Renji so much of the time, didn’t know what set him off — because most of the time now they can be normal with each other for hours on end and Renji will start to let his guard down, and then suddenly, he’ll lash out when Ichigo crosses some boundary he didn’t realize was there.

It’s sad, because they'd made some progress in the beginning, but now it felt like Renji had gone back into his shell, completely withdrawn from him. 

It seems like every time Ichigo tries to be friendly with him and treat him like he would any other person, Renji doesn’t reciprocate, doesn’t try to communicate on the same level. He shuts down instead, pulls away, and that’s when the animal in Renji rears its head, lashes out in a wild burst, _why don’t you listen to me unless I hiss at you, just get away from me_ — 

Ichigo can _feel_ the distress caused by that communication barrier, can feel the frustration Renji experiences at being unable to make himself understood, he can feel how exhausted Renji is, constantly riding that emotional rollercoaster — at first content in Ichigo's company, an immediate spike of aggression if Ichigo moves a little too fast, or comes a little too close. If Renji would just _talk_ to him, even one word at a time, even if he’d just use his hands a little more to try and tell him things, to say _stop,_ or _no,_ Ichigo felt sure that they’d be able to get along so much better.

But Renji’s been treated like an animal his entire life, and likely doesn’t see any use in talking at this point. Ichigo doubts that his caretakers did much more than talk over Renji’s head, never communicating with him directly, ignoring him completely other than making him do what they want. A social creature who had been that isolated through childhood, adolescence, all the way to adulthood, unable to do anything but lash out in frustration and fear and anger, it had to cause some sort of mental damage, to have to bottle up all those thoughts in one’s head, unable to tell them to others. A person like that, who's never been listened to, of course they would eventually come to the conclusion that their only recourse is to resort to violence.

Someone who has been conditioned not to even _bother_ trying to get their thoughts across because there’s _no point, no one will pay attention anyway,_ how can Ichigo coax someone like that to open up? How can he make Renji see that he doesn’t have to be that animal around him, he can put in that effort and tell Ichigo what he wants, however simple the message is — _and he will listen to him._

He wants Renji to feel that he can be heard, that he has things to say that deserve to be acknowledged. Ichigo’s sure that it would help unravel this knot of frustration and confusion that he's got stuck inside him. Renji is a brain that is trapped, a firework in a metal can, a pot full of steam, and Ichigo’s sure he can help him, set him free of that pain if he can just help him realize that communicating his thoughts is a useful and worthwhile tool.

He wants Renji to feel that he'd meant it when he'd said they could be buddies. It shouldn't be this difficult, because he already knows that Renji _wants_ to be his friend. After all, he'd reached out to him before, had told him his name. The first step is always the hardest. They just have to keep going from here. Ichigo just has to keep holding out the hand of friendship until Renji tries to take it again.  


Ichigo scanned the first few pages, reading a little more of Renji's medical history, because he doesn’t exactly understand all the materials he’s been given by Grimmjow, the type of sedative and the dosage — because he’s a nurse that works in emergency care, not a vet. He’s also looking for any records that indicate Renji acting out in the past in a similar fashion. How had he been dealt with by his caregivers during an outburst? How had they calmed him down in moments of stress?

That’s what he intends to look for; it is not what he finds.

It took him awhile to realize what he was reading, that the subject being described in these accounts was _Renji,_ even though, who the fuck else would it be? — Captured off the street young after having escaped from somewhere or other, a small blackmarket operation. It was presumed the place he’d come from had also housed his mother and others like her. Renji and some siblings had been illegally bred and kept to sell.

Amazingly, there was a gap there, as he’d somehow managed to evade capture for a year or so even though it wasn’t exactly _hard_ to notice someone like him, a homeless child with ears and a tail — After being taken off the streets, he was kept in another location for some years, a care-facility full of scientists that had to have shirked their codes of ethics to work under the table like that. A place where the animals they studied were eventually sold off to keep funding their organization, to keep the lights on in their laboratory.

Even if Ichigo thinks it's really _wrong,_ it makes sense on some level. There were only a limited amount of authorized tests that could be done on neko in a government facility, and one could be surprised what some intellectuals could sink to in order to gain access to that kind of untapped potential. It's no great mystery that those underground labs existed.  So much about neko had been left unexplored — what were their physical limitations, for instance? Are they similar enough to humans that they can they be used as lab-animals in a human test-subject's place?  Do they react to diseases the same way humans do, do their brains respond to stimuli differently — could their organs be farmed for human use, can they be used as stand-ins for humans in combat, or sent in submarines or spaceships never meant to return home?

Who knew what kind of treatment Renji and others like him had endured under care of medical professionals without the Hippocratic oath to hinder them, science without emotion, knowledge without empathy.

Hair prickling on the back of his neck, Ichigo read that Renji had passed several years in this location, his entire youth spent in cages being poked and prodded at by people who wanted to purchase and abuse him. Perhaps luckily, it looked like Renji's exotic breed had spared him the horrors of undergoing any experimentation. He had merely been kept for future sale, groomed to peak physical fitness. The records Ichigo saw mostly detailed the state of Renji's health as time passed.

However, by adolescence, it was clear he would be unsuitable as a pet, since he was particularly wild. Ichigo found a written proposal detailing a request to send Renji to the dogfighting pits.

Ichigo has heard about this vaguely, had always assumed on some level that it must go on somewhere in the dark of night, but he’d never thought much about it — wild male neko that were beefed up on steroids and then put in an enclosed space together so that they could be goaded into taking out their aggression on each other, all so that their masters and friends could bet sums of money on the outcome, which one would survive.

 _‘Renji?...’_ he thought, feeling sick. He would have assumed neko, especially tiger neko, were too valuable to be wasted so senselessly.   _‘At least that explains why he was never declawed…’_

 

Ichigo didn’t remember seeing any notable scars on Renji, nothing that would give it away that he’d been in the pit, so he must've gotten out of it — but it's still apparent that he was routinely abused and terrorized from the way he flinched if Ichigo so much as raised a hand towards him.

He must have been. Ichigo doesn’t see any other explanation for how skittish he is, because unless they're sick with rabies, wild animals almost always choose flight over fight. _Abused_ animals attack first, retreat after — and Ichigo understood now that Renji’s aggressive behavior wasn’t aggression at all. All this time Ichigo’s been scared that Renji might hurt him, but Renji was just as scared. He’s _afraid_ of Ichigo.

Renji obviously associated being touched with pain, links the two together. Getting touched means something bad is going to happen to him, it triggers the same reaction, he felt the pain whether or not it was actually there, and so even when Ichigo reached towards him meaning no harm, everything inside Renji recoiled as if Ichigo had already touched him, _beaten_ him — and he lashes out, _get away from me,_ _stop fucking hurting me—_

Ichigo can only imagine how much he must have suffered, how long he’d spent in captivity, how scared and wild and psychologically damaged he must be. It’s no wonder he’s so closed off, it’s no wonder he doesn’t try to talk.

The truly awful thing is _why_ Renji didn't end up in the pit — because that's when he'd been picked up by a buyer.

That's what really gets him. Renji was bought _after_ all of that, after living in a jail throughout his entire youth and likely facing daily abuse at the hands of his captors — _after_ being traumatized so much that it was basically guaranteed that he would be too wild and dangerous, too distrusting of humans to ever be safely owned, after all of that, some crazy rich guy had still bought him as a pet — and who knows what had happened to him then.  


Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

  
. . .

  
Ichigo stood at the kitchen counter with the first-aid kit and bandaged his arm.  


Renji’s hurt him, but he didn’t hold it against him. He’d shown clear remorse afterwards, and had likely only lashed out because he’d gotten spooked, a purely defensive gesture. He's not mad about it.

Ichigo figured Renji was irritable and anxious being in a new place, the unfamiliar smells and sounds. He didn’t understand why he was here or what was going on, what's going to happen to him next — that had to be really confusing and scary, he had to be under so much stress, poor guy, and after Renji’s past treatment, it’s not like he has a _reason_ to trust Ichigo.

That’s what makes it all the more amazing that Renji had held out his hand to him that time, that he’d tried to shake his hand — so Ichigo doesn’t hold a grudge, because real trust took time to build, and it was enough that Renji had reached out, that he was trying. It was just something they’d have to work on, living in close quarters.

Once he’d wrapped up his arm, Renji still hadn’t shown his face, so Ichigo called, “Renji! I’m going out.” After a beat, he said, “I’ll be back soon.” No answer, but he knew Renji had heard.

During a short trip to the grocery store, he picked up a couple food items and then surveyed the pharmacy nearby, purchasing some ear drops — he figured Renji had fleas or mites or something, or maybe a cut in his ear that was troubling him. Hopefully once he’s home, Renji will have come out of his room by then and he can show him how to use the drops and give him some relief from the itching.  


When he got back, he opened the door to the sound of thumping and some subdued yowls of distress.  


Alarmed, Ichigo locked up behind him and came into the living room to find Renji crouched near the wall, yanking roughly on his arm, his fingers stuck quite firmly in the heating grate.

When he saw Ichigo, he grew even more agitated, straining to pull himself free, even going so far as to dig his teeth into his hand in desperation when Ichigo took a few steps towards him — at which he quickly said, “Whoa, whoa, it’s okay! Don’t bite yourself!”

He may have locked Renji up in a room for the first few days of knowing him, but he realized then that he’s never actually seen him _trapped._ Renji was really scared, his pupils were quivering pinpricks, his face contorted into something wild. Ears back, teeth bared in a loud hiss, the markings on his face served to make him look big and scary despite the terror in his expression.

He’s stuck there, can’t move, can’t get away, can’t prevent Ichigo from coming up next to him, and he looks _out of his mind_ from the fear of being unable to retreat.

“Renji, it’s okay,” he told him. “Lemme’ help you, I want to help you—” But Renji didn’t seem to hear or understand him, his body tense and heaving with quick breaths, brain shut off in the way it does during a life-or-death situation—

He tried to get a little closer, but Renji struck out at him with his free hand, didn’t want him to come any nearer. He hissed and spat, vicious and warning him, _‘I’m freaked out — get away from me!’_  


“Okay, okay,” Ichigo tried to soothe.  


He sat with him for a long time, keeping his distance until Renji began to calm — or at least until he stopped hissing and trying to yank himself free. He’d since huddled away from him, arm fully extended to place him as far from him as he could. He watched Ichigo distrustfully, tail puffed, his chest moving fast.

Ichigo slowly crept forward a few inches at a time, and of course, Renji can _see_ what he’s doing and doesn’t fucking appreciate it, especially when Ichigo at last reached out to try and touch him so he could get a look at how he’d gotten himself stuck. Slick with cold sweat, hair standing up, trembling with distress, Renji growled, deep and _scary,_ trying to frighten Ichigo away by baring his fangs, but he’s _shaking,_  his body pulled back as far as possible.

He thrashed, and Ichigo snapped his hand back in case Renji tried to bite — another concern is that Renji's struggling so much that he's really going to hurt himself. If it were Ichigo, he’d be able to just slide his hand out, but Renji’s fingers aren’t as slim as his, and he was cutting himself in his frantic attempts to escape.

“I know you don’t wanna’ be touched,” he huffed, starting to get worked up himself, heart pounding, Renji was _so_ freaked out, unpredictable and wild, who knew what he might do in desperation. “I’m just trying to help. I want to help. I’m not gonna’ hurt you,” he tried, “Just hold still, you dumb tiger—” He knew Renji could understand that much, but Renji either didn't believe him or wasn't listening at all, because he wouldn’t let Ichigo touch him, yowling in offense each time he tried to get close.

Groaning, Ichigo got up and collected some tools: soap and a screwdriver. Renji kept frantically throwing himself against the wall, loud thumps and cries of distress as he hurt himself trying to pull his hand out.

Ichigo was getting frustrated, because he didn’t know what to do. If Grimmjow were here, he’d tell him to just tranq him and deal with him after he was out cold. Ichigo didn’t want to resort to using the gun, even if it would let him pull him free once he was unconscious. It seemed cruel to take away his agency like that against his will, but he can’t just leave the idiot stuck there!

He said as much to Renji, “You can’t stay stuck there forever.” Renji roared, baring his jaws, trying his best to make himself look big and intimidating — _don’t_ _fuck_ _with me_ — and he did a good job of it, because Ichigo’s trembling with the adrenaline. “You’ve gotta’ let me help,” he panted, “You gotta’ trust me.”

Renji settled a tiny bit, still yowling and hissing unhappily, but he didn’t thrash when Ichigo approached, jaw set in determination. “Big baby,” Ichigo muttered, reaching out a hand, shaking slightly and ready to leap back if Renji snapped at him suddenly. At last, he reached out and held Renji’s fingers still, and when Renji didn’t immediately bite or claw him, merely continuing to hiss and shudder with distress, eyes wide, skin gleaming with sweat, Ichigo tried to comfort him a little, “See, not so bad. You’re okay—” as he turned the vent flaps in the grate so that they pointed straight.

He uncapped the dishsoap and drizzled some on Renji’s fingers, twisting his hand this way and that to try and let the soap leak in somewhat, then gave an experimental tug. It was stuck pretty solidly, so Ichigo told him, “I’m gonna’ pull you out — this part’s gonna’ hurt,” and it must hurt a lot, because when Ichigo started helping him drag his hand out, Renji stopped yowling and instead let out a very surprised and very _human_ shout of pain, then bit his lips in silence.

Ichigo expected him to bolt the second he got free, but when his hand popped out, bloody and sliced up, Renji just withdrew it and held it against his stomach, curling around it. He let out a pained whimper, gritting his teeth, and squeezed his hand for a long time. Ichigo sits with him as they pant and start to calm down.

To Ichigo’s amazement, after a few minutes of suffering and keening over his wound, Renji tentatively held his hand out, showing it to him. Renji hasn't looked straight at him like that in a while, so Ichigo's heart starts to thump again,  _Renji's reaching out to him, this is it—_

He’s completely pitiful, big eyes gazing up into Ichigo’s as he shows him his hand, as if to garner sympathy over what has happened to him — _‘I really hurt myself, look how I hurt myself_ — _'_

Ichigo slowly reached out his own hand, cautious, because he’s made the mistake before thinking that Renji was going to let him touch him when in fact, he didn't want him to. This time, Renji does let him, and Ichigo held his bloody hand in his own, tipping it this way and that, giving it a cursory evaluation. Renji’s hand is almost exactly like his own, but not quite. He has sharp thick nails that aren’t exactly claws but are a pretty close equivalent, and although they retract like a real tiger’s would, they don’t retract very far, able to be pushed in and out with the difference of about a quarter centimeter. Renji has a deep cut in the second knuckle of each finger, and a few grazes that had badly split his cuticles on two fingers. Ichigo squeezes those fingertips to pop the claw back and forth, and Renji gave a small yelp, flinching. 

Ichigo released his grip and Renji tried moving his claws himself, letting out another whine, miserably giving his hand to Ichigo again, _it hurts, look, I'm really hurt_ —  

“You're okay, everything’s gonna’ be okay,” Ichigo soothes. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as it looks. One second, wait here.”

Renji stayed there and waited while Ichigo got some ice and a towel and the first-aid kit. He stayed still and let Ichigo hold his hand in his while he wiped the blood and iced the cuts, and then bandaged them, wrapping his hand.

Afterwards, Ichigo released him and backed away, putting the stuff back, and then slowly approached him again, sitting on the carpet a few feet away. Renji stays there.

Maybe he’s in shock. Ichigo had thought for sure that by now Renji would go to his room to hide and lick his wounds, but instead, Renji scooted across the floor a bit, slowly shuffling closer to him. Ichigo held still to see what he would do, and watched as Renji put his hand out to him again.

At first Ichigo thought Renji was asking him to look at his hand again, but as he looked down, he saw that Renji has placed his wrapped hand next to his own bandaged arm, so that they’re side by side.

Ichigo didn’t know what he was trying to tell him, and looked up in confusion, then held frozen still as Renji bowed his head a little, and butted it against his shoulder, very gingerly. He shuffled closer still, like he could make himself small and huddle against Ichigo’s side, even though he was significantly bigger and taller.

His tail was flicking, and he looked petulant and a little sulky, like he was still upset over his ordeal and wanted to be comforted but didn’t know how to ask. He was very tense, like he’s still scared of Ichigo but wants to be next to him enough that he’s making himself get over that fear — _‘I got hurt, my hand hurts, I’m upset_ —’

Ichigo slowly, _slowly_ let his hand come around Renji’s back, laying it down on his shoulder. Renji was motionless and stiff, hardly daring to breathe, nose quivering, but he allowed the touch.

Breathless, Ichigo dared to rub his thumb there lightly. Renji’s ears go back almost meekly, but he let him do it, digging his head against Ichigo's shoulder a little more.  


_‘He’s touching me! He’s letting me touch him!’_ he thought in amazement.  


Pushing his luck, Ichigo _very very slowly_ moved his hand to the top of Renji’s head, lightly stroking his hair, and when he accepted that much, he dared to smooth his palm over Renji’s head and make a pass over his flattened ears.

He knew that big cats can’t purr or meow, but Renji made a noise then, kind of like a snort, a very deep thick vibration in his throat that lasted around a second at a time, like a very slow short purr as he forced air out through his nose.

He slowly began to relax, allowing Ichigo to pet him on the head for a short time. He stayed there, pressed up against his side, protectively holding his injured hand close. Every so often he'll start to tense up and breathe faster, signalling Ichigo to pause in stroking his ears for a few moments to let him calm down, but Renji stays there, tail flicking at the tip until it eventually curls up around his feet.  


Ichigo didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything — but whatever this moment is, it feels monumentally important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pet him u cowards


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mundane adventures of a boy and his cat learning to live with each other.

Things change a lot over the next few days. After the incident with the grate, Renji continued to be pretty skittish, but even though he shied away very frequently, he always ended up circling back not a moment later.

It's cute, really, the way he'll tentatively creep back, clearly wanting to be close to Ichigo enough that he can't be kept away just because he's still instinctively distrusting.  


Ichigo doesn’t know what changed exactly, but Renji’s like a whole different person. He’s friendly with Ichigo and follows him around a lot, eager to interact with him. He’s openly curious about everything Ichigo does, he’s bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and he doesn’t look so suspicious all the time.

The most notable difference is a good one. He’s still very easily startled, but when he gets spooked, he doesn’t hiss at Ichigo anymore, the only sign being stiffening up, widening his eyes, and flattening his ears instead.

Being friendlier means Renji’s out of his room more, and being out of his room more means that he gets into mischief when Ichigo doesn't occupy him with something, which he learned fairly soon. 

To be fair to Renji, it's probably Ichigo's own fault for assuming that after the traumatic experience of getting stuck and hurting himself, Renji would be scared of the vent now and would steer clear of it. Boy, was that a mistake.

Renji hadn’t given up by any means, even more determined to catch the mice that lived in the wall — Ichigo didn't know one way or another if they were actually there, but Renji must be able to smell them or something, because he was  _relentless._

The crafty bugger pried the grate off the wall with his nails, the screws and plaster bits left all over the floor, and then he camped in front of the hole, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Then, lightning quick, he shot his arm inside and clapped his hand over a mouse.   


He played with it for some time on the living room floor, rolling on it and batting the dead thing around — and that’s how Ichigo found him when he came home from work.   


At the sight of him, Renji perked up, pleased with himself, the little shit, like he hadn’t done anything wrong in ripping up Ichigo’s wall. He proudly tried to give him the dead mouse, holding it out on his palms with bright eyes.

It’s still rare for Renji to try and directly communicate with him like that, so this is a good thing, but it’s _really hard_ not to show some revulsion at the sight of the mouse. Renji’s glowing with pride, so eager in his attempts to give it to him, completely convinced that Ichigo will be pleased with it.

Ichigo can’t break his heart like that, so he smiled despite his disgust, because the thought comes to him that this might've been how he'd gotten his hand stuck in the first place, trying to retrieve the mouse for him, sharing his prize — and that’s… _touching,_ honestly.

It’s really gross, but Renji looked so sure that Ichigo would like it that there’s no way he can tell him, _fuck, get that dead mouse away from me,_ because what kind of monster would he be to hurt Renji’s feelings like that—  


“Oh, thanks,” he said, to show appreciation, not knowing what to do exactly. “Nice catch.” Clearly excited with the praise, Renji nudged it to him insistently to tell him to take it.  


Ichigo doesn’t want the mouse _at all_ _,_  but this is a serious improvement, Renji is trying to socialize with him, show him a friendly gesture, and any attempt to communicate at all is a good thing, because even now when Ichigo talks, half the time Renji still doesn't seem to realize that he's talking _to_ him and neglects to respond — _but look, look what he's doing, that is so clearly an attempt to become friends!_

Renji's been so slow and hesitant to open up that Ichigo knows he can’t hurt his feelings at any cost. He's a big guy with the very real ability to be vicious and frightening, but he's got this innocence about him, he's got a sweet side to him that seeks approval, and Ichigo doesn't want to hurt or reject him — he has to encourage Renji's efforts, even if that mouse is revolting.

For that reason, there's a moment where he actually thinks about letting Renji put it into his hand, but in the end, it's too gross. It's dead as a doornail and looks like Renji's already squashed it while playing and has put it in his mouth a couple times.

“Ah,” Ichigo declined graciously. “You go ahead.” Renji squirms happily when Ichigo thanks him for his consideration.   


  He had the decency to eat his snack in the privacy of his room, thank goodness.  
  


. . .  
  


After trying his best to screw the grate back into the wall — he didn’t scold Renji for ripping it out, _how could he?_ — Ichigo started with the housework.  


It's been easier to shelter Renji since his change of heart. It takes a lot of time to complete care tasks that involve touching him, because he gets scared in those situations, but if Ichigo's gentle enough in his approach, Renji usually gives in eventually. He's let Ichigo use the dropper he'd gotten to soothe the itchy ears, and Ichigo's been allowed to tend the cuts on Renji's fingers until they'd scabbed over and didn't need bandages anymore.  
  
Everything else is pretty simple. He just has to feed him at regular intervals and make sure he's clean.  


“Hey stinky, time for a bath,” he calls, because he wants to put in a load of laundry and Renji only has the one pair of clothes, so it needs to be washed every couple days.

He waits until he hears the clatter of the bathroom door and the drizzle of the showerhead, and then walks in and clicks the button on the wall to run the bath. He sets out a towel for when Renji's done, and then quickly gathers his clothes up, leaving him to scrub himself clean on the shower-stool while the tub fills. He leaves the door half-open so he can periodically check on him in there.

He's got it down pretty well now, but the first time had been a real debacle. Renji spent a considerable amount of time on the floor, probably out of habit, so his clothes had really started to gather dirt and get kind of sweaty from general use, so Ichigo had eventually asked him to give them to him for a wash, y’know, _take them off._

Renji had really resisted it. He put his ears back and wouldn’t look at him, and at first Ichigo was irritated, thinking he was just being stubborn and doing the selective-hearing thing like usual — because Renji had acted the same way when he’d tried to wash his bedsheets, upset to have his little nest disturbed. In that situation he’d eventually given in and let Ichigo take them, and had been much happier afterwards with the fresh sheets. Figuring it was the same with the clothes, Ichigo pressed him for some time.

When Renji wouldn’t so much as remove one sock, Ichigo complained, _‘You smell like ass, you’re a total pig!’_ and scolded him for sulking like a baby, telling him to just get it over with.

Ever since they’d started to get along better, Ichigo’s less wary of having disagreements with Renji, because Renji gets scared a lot, but he only ever has violent outbursts if he feels he’s in danger — so as long as Ichigo keeps his distance and doesn’t shout, it’s fair game, meaning that the way to win an argument is to wear him down.

So Ichigo pestered him all day to just take the clothes off, everyone has to wash their clothes, hand them over, don't be difficult—

He's a determined guy by nature, but he's equally soft-hearted, so when Renji had started to get emotional, holding onto his shirt like he thinks Ichigo’s going to try to _take it away_ from him, he immediately crumbles, realizing that pushing him so hard might be kind of a dick move. He could see then that he'd been mistaken in thinking Renji was just being a stubborn brat — he’s sensitive, and he needs to be treated with patience and gentleness, needs to feel safe. He still has to learn to trust Ichigo.

He'd tried to explain to Renji that he's not in any trouble, feeling that it's necessary to tell him that because on some level Renji seems to think he's being punished. It seemed to help, but he still really hadn't wanted to give them back, so Ichigo’d had to coax him for quite some time, it won't even take that long, he just needs to wash them, he promises to give them back right away, they’ll be so fresh and nice!

Eventually, Renji had actually obeyed, reluctantly stripping everything off right there and handing it over — which should’ve been a victory, but the way he’d acted afterwards was just awful. He'd hid his face in shame and huddled up against the wall in total despair, refusing to unroll himself until he could get dressed again.

Ichigo had felt so horrible for putting him through that ordeal that he swore to himself not to do that again, no matter how strong Renji started to smell. The solution he'd found was to just take Renji's clothes for a wash when he removes them for his bath — because getting him to take a bath is a piece of cake.  


“You done in there?” Ichigo called, poking his head in to see Renji soaking in the tub, eyes shut in enjoyment. He set down Renji’s folded-up clothes next to the towel. “C’mon, get out. Dinner.”   


Making sure Renji is fed and clean is all very well, but the thing with the mouse has reminded Ichigo that this isn't like taking care of any other pet. It's not like he can expect Renji to sleep all day while he's gone. He's too smart to be left on his own with nothing to do without getting bored to sobs. It's Ichigo's own fault. Once he'd decided to let Renji out of his room, he'd pretty much decided that this whole 'sheltering' thing is going to be much more involved than just making sure he doesn't starve. He has to keep him occupied.

Renji’s in a good mood after being in the tub and getting into his fresh clothes, so once they eat, Ichigo seizes his opportunity. In order to avoid any future mischief with the grates, he taught Renji how to do some chores so that he’d have something to do during the day when he’s on his own.

He showed him how to wash the dishes, explaining that _no, you can’t just lick the plates and put them back, you have to use water and soap,_ and Renji had gotten on board with that idea very quickly, because he likes to play in the sink.

He’s actually good at it. He’s very careful with the plates and cups, surprisingly understanding they were fragile without being told. Unsurprisingly, he liked cleaning the bathroom too, just as he liked anything that involved water.

He did _not_ like the vacuum cleaner, and Ichigo didn’t make him use it after the first time seeing the way his hair and tail puffed in alarm when he turned it on. Renji retreated to his room when Ichigo vacuumed the carpet, but he could be persuaded to sweep with the broom in the kitchen afterwards.

Maybe Ichigo hadn't expected it to be so easy to show him things because of his previous experience trying to talk to Renji — sometimes it's really like talking to a brick wall — or maybe it's that he hadn't thought Renji would be interested, but when Ichigo teaches him how to do the basic housework, Renji is so attentive, so eager to participate, so  _willing_  to do it,that he wonders why it didn't occur to him sooner to give Renji some activities.

In the following days, when he comes home, he’s greeted with a very clean house. When he’s at work, Renji tidies up, puts things back where he’s seen Ichigo put them, very precise about it. He must have a really good memory, or was just that observant, because the way he lines Ichigo’s coats up on the coat rack and organizes his shoes in the entryway, it’s always in the same exact order. The same with the plates in the cabinet and the books on the shelf.

Ichigo always makes a verbal note of it when he comes in the door. The amount of satisfaction Renji clearly derives from the praise is reason enough for him to make a point of acknowledging his efforts and showing appreciation.  


Something that isn’t new is that Renji sniffs stuff — check that, he sniffs everything.  


It’s impossible not to notice, really. He smells everything in the house, ranging from curious to dubious. Ichigo’s guessing that it’s how he reassures himself that all is as it should be, _smells like it usually does,_ and of course, it's how he acclimates himself to new things, y’know, checks that they’re ‘okay.’ Thing is, now that they’re getting along better, Renji also feels free to smell _Ichigo_ every time he comes home.

“Hey bud,” Ichigo greets.

Renji bounds up to him when he hears he’s home, and then approached the rest of the way slowly, still a tiny bit cautious. He leaned in with his nose, not quite touching him. He sniffed Ichigo’s ear once, tickling him as he snuffled at him a little, his clothes, his armpits, his groin, which Ichigo hates.

"How was your day?" Even though he knows Renji won't answer, he says it for the sake of being friendly as Renji comes to assess him and the smells of his daily activities. Ichigo holds still and lets him, used to it now after the first couple times, now that he’s realized what Renji was doing.

Once Renji lost interest, having confirmed that Ichigo checks out alright, Ichigo is free to walk off and change clothes before dinner. Evenings after work are pretty nice. He comes back, chats out loud to Renji, who is content to listen silently and follow him around as he cooks and cleans.

Whatever that incident had brought on, the way Renji had chosen that moment, seemingly arbitrarily, to scoot up next to him for the first time — we’ll call it snuggling for now — Ichigo knew that whatever it was, it had been instrumental in gaining Renji's trust, and was the reason their relationship had seen such steady progress since then. Renji's opening up more and more as the days go by, and has shown a significant improvement in his mood.  
  
It’s true that he’d told Renji he wanted to be buddies, but he'd sort of figured they'd stay in that tense truce stage for the rest of Renji's stay. He'd never expected them to really get along that well that Renji would be excited when he came home. Instead of staying in his room by himself, he prefers being with Ichigo. Sometimes, he's even a little  _playful,_  which might be the most surprising thing of all.

  
It started pretty simple. Ichigo was in his room reading on his bed after dinner, and since the door was open, Renji crept in, used to being given free reign of the house by now. The first time, he'd stopped and paced at the threshold, seeming to understand that this was Ichigo’s room and might be offlimits to him, but he’d tentatively put a hand out onto the floor just inside the door, testing, _will you let me in here?_

Of course, Ichigo didn't scold him, so Renji slowly shuffled in, an inch at a time, making himself small,  _I'm coming in please, can I come by you?_

After behaving this way a couple times, enough to assure himself that Ichigo won't get angry and chase him out, Renji is less hesitant to enter. If Ichigo was in his room during the day with the door open, Renji knew he was welcome in, and he’d occasionally wander inside and peek at him, like he was just checking up on him and what he was doing.

Maybe Ichigo’s asserted himself as master of the house well enough that Renji’s jungle-mind has registered that he is generously being allowed to share Ichigo’s territory, and that while he may go where he pleases, the bed is off-limits — because he’s staked himself out on the couch before for a nap, but he’s never gotten on Ichigo’s bed.

He started pushing his luck though, crawling into his room — it felt weird to call it crawling, but Renji liked to move around on all fours a lot of the time — and sitting on the floor next to the bed. He put a hand up onto the mattress, touching the blanket, then took his hand away again, watching Ichigo. He’s clearly testing him.

Ichigo’s expected this, figuring that as Renji began to trust him, he’d start to act out in an attempt to find the boundary where Ichigo would shout or react with violence — which means Ichigo is determined to show him unwavering patience so that he will learn he never deserves to be struck, no matter what he does.

When Ichigo doesn’t do more than glance at him, Renji straightened up on his knees, emboldened once he decided he could get away with being an annoying shit. He put his arm on the bed, and when Ichigo gave him another look, he ducked down, quickly withdrawing his arm again. Ichigo watched as Renji scooted closer to the side of the bed, chin and nose pressed into the blanket as he did it a few more times, snaking his arm over the covers and reaching out to swat at Ichigo's foot. Ichigo raised his eyebrows as this mischievous smile started growing on Renji's face, tail swaying above him.  


_‘He’s teasing me,’_ Ichigo realized. _‘He wants to play.’_  


Admittedly, Ichigo can be dumb as a rock at times, and this might be one of those moments — because it had already occurred to him earlier that he needed to keep Renji occupied, and yet he still hadn't put it together that maybe he should get him some  _toys,_ something to entertain himself with.

He didn’t have anything onhand that was suitable as a toy for Renji use at the moment, so mainly, he was at a loss as to what to do with this information, other than, _shit, Renji wants to play, fuck if he’s not going to play with him —_ so he gets up, put his book away, and muttered, “Okay, okay,” and followed as Renji eagerly bounded out into the living room.  


It seemed he'd just wanted some company, because Renji immediately flings himself out on the floor and is content to bat a pair of balled-up socks around on his own, so Ichigo cooks dinner and wonders, half-hysterical, if he should get a laser-pointer or something.  


In any case, on the weekends Ichigo stays home to look after Renji, because he got into things if he was unsupervised for too long — his latest venture had been realizing that the fridge was full of meats that were just _sitting there._ Luckily, Ichigo had caught him before he could clean the thing out and give himself a stomachache. His fridge had one of those locks on the bottom which bolted the door shut from the inside, so that was that.

He locked it, figuring that would be the end of it, y’know, because even if Renji might wait until he wasn’t around to try and sneak back there, Ichigo imagined he would tug on the door, find it was locked, and then leave it alone — except he forgot that Renji wasn’t a regular guy. He’s frighteningly strong, and if animals can get to some food and eat it, they will.

The big dummy had tried _prying the door open_ , and it had actually worked, but not enough that he could fit his arm in and grab anything. He must be too wary of reaching his hand into a small space after the grate incident, so he hadn’t ended up getting to any food. He’d warped the screws holding the door on its hinge enough that the corner didn’t rest where it should anymore, letting out a continuous draft of chilled air.

Ichigo was more surprised than upset, but Renji had looked appropriately abashed when he’d come home to find he’d _broken the fucking fridge._

In a show of remorse, Renji had circled him guiltily while he tried to fix it until he gave him a job. He’d had Renji hold the door up while he put in new screws, the old ones all bent and fucked up. He looked so sorry already that Ichigo only scolds him a little bit, _next time,_ _if you’re hungry, just tell me and I’ll feed you_ —

Moments like that, it occurs to him that his circumstances should trouble him more. He's pretty sure that at some point, he'd gotten desensitized to the strange nature of his situation. There's a wild creature living in his apartment. It eats with him and prowls the halls, and it occasionally destroys parts of his home. It follows him and gazes at him with wonder, as though he is the fascinating one, exotic and beautiful. Life is wretchedly fantastic, and Ichigo's forgotten what it's like to be bored, he's forgotten about feeling miserable.

Maybe that's why he doesn't think too hard about these things and just goes with the flow, spending all his free time at home so that he could be with Renji — and so he can  _watch_ him, the little gremlin.   


There is something that's been bothering him though. He hasn't been with Rukia for some time, and that's mostly because he's been isolating himself as much as possible in order to keep the  _Renji-secret_ thoroughly secure. After all, it's not as though he can  _tell_ her, even though sometimes he feels as though he's going to explode with excitement. Every time he and Renji get closer, every time there's an improvement, another milestone reached, he feels such a rush that he wants to tell someone about it, wants to share it with her — but of course, he can't.

He's actually long overdue to meet with her. He got antsy and kind of down if he didn't see her for awhile, and if it weren't for Renji having come into his life, Ichigo's sure he would be in quite the state by now. As it happens, she's been pestering him for some time, because he's been turning her down for outings a lot lately, using the weak excuse,  _'I already have plans, sorry—'_   those plans involving a full-grown tiger-neko being sheltered in his home.  


 Today though, he went out to have lunch with her.  
  
  
“What have you been up to that’s been keeping you so busy?” Ichigo gave a noncommittal shrug and some pathetic attempt at explanation.

Really, he’s glad to see her, he misses her when she’s not there, her and her ridiculously formal speech and deep sonorous voice, her perfume, bony elbows, and tiny… _everything._ Renji's really interesting and all, but she's his best friend in the world, and he gets a little lonely without her.

Even so, he finds himself worrying about Renji while he's there with her. True, he leaves Renji alone in the apartment when he's at work, but on the weekend, he's always stayed with him. He can't stop wondering what Renji's doing — maybe waiting for him? It's not as though he'd gotten him any toys yet, so who knew how he was passing the time...  
  
  
"Ichigo...?" Ichigo looked up, to find her waving a hand in front of his face.

"Oh. My bad," he mumbled.  


He’d given himself a peptalk in front of the mirror before coming here — _bitch, you’d better act normal or Rukia will smell your bullshit —_ but it must not have helped much, because it took less than an hour being out for her to point out, “You’re off in your own world.”

“You’re not much better,” Ichigo deflected, because he almost wished he could just tell her everything right then, but _knows_ he can’t, so he had to do everything possible to throw her off the trail. “Trouble at home?”

She’s uneasy in her silence, but then admitted, “Brother has been in a strange mood.”

Ichigo hummed. Rukia lives with her adoptive older brother at his estate — no, yeah, his _estate._ Guy’s _loaded._ Ichigo’s only met him a couple times, and he’s pretty fun to rile up, but he’s also really cold and... maybe _reticent_ is the word? Ichigo knows it’s hard for Rukia, because she adores the guy, idolizes him really, and he doesn’t show her any affection.  


Before they part ways, Ichigo awkwardly puts an arm around her shoulders, and then hugs her once she hugs back.  


Once he gets home, walks up the steps of his apartment, and unlocks his unit, Renji greets him at the door as usual, coming up to smell him, but this time, he halted in front of him. He looked confused, staring at Ichigo with wide searching eyes.

“What’s with you?” Ichigo wondered. "Did the delivery man come?" Sometimes if people are wandering around outside too much during the day while Ichigo's at work, Renji will start to get nervous and squirrely to the point that he's on edge by the time he comes home.

Ichigo held up his arm, offering it for him to smell. Renji does, jaw slackening, and he gives Ichigo that uncertain look again.  


  “Flower,” he said aloud, seeming hesitant.

  
Ichigo frowned. He’s been trying fruitlessly to coax Renji to speak a little more for ages now — because he didn’t understand why he chooses not to speak, if he _can._ Even with all of Ichigo’s efforts, Renji’s still a very quiet guy who rarely, _rarely_ speaks, so every time he does, it can be assumed that it's for something significant.

"What?" Ichigo hummed in confusion, not seeing what he was getting at. "What flower?" His sweater isn't patterned. He's not holding anything. What can Renji mean by that?

Renji doesn't repeat himself, instead busied with smelling the arm of Ichigo's sweater over and over, getting a whiff of the front too and circling around him. He’s starting to look very excited, and keeps looking into Ichigo’s face as if to ask him to explain, but Ichigo doesn’t understand.

“What’s with you?” he laughed as Renji ducked around him again. At last, he took off the sweater and gave it to him, maybe that’s what he wants.  


Renji frowned, but accepted it, shoulders slumping. Ichigo’s face falls.  


Ichigo found the sweater again later when he was doing some cleaning around the house and came into Renji’s room to take the futon out and air it. The sweater fell out of the blankets, carefully tucked inside.

    “Weird guy,” Ichigo mumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, the transitions between subjects seemed kind of clunky in this chapter - I couldn't fix it how I liked, so here we are.
> 
> .  
> .
> 
> Renji talked! 
> 
> Hmm, what is the flowers?


	18. Chapter 18

After the fridge incident, Ichigo figures he can’t just expect Renji to clean all day and still not get into mischief. Considering Renji can’t read to pass the time, or watch TV, Ichigo knows that he would get really bored too in that situation. He has to find a way for Renji to occupy his mind, because he can’t supervise him every second of the day, especially when he’s at work.

He starts by getting him a couple simple toys — _pet_ toys, like a ball, a chewing rope, a little stuffed animal. It doesn't fully register that getting an adult humanoid creature _dog toys_ might not be the best idea until he gives them to Renji later and realizes with a sudden _jolt_ that this is _wrong._ He spent a couple seconds completely aghast, feeling like a total dick, but he seemed to have been worrying for nothing, because Renji was elated.

He clearly recognizes that they’re toys at once and excitedly puts his fingers to his chest, tapping, _me, for me?_ — it’s the first time he’s done so in ages, so it’s not like Ichigo can change his mind and take them back. He can’t crush Renji like that, so he has to give them to him, even if it feels kind of messed up.

He gets over it pretty quick, it’s hard not to with Renji’s joy at the gift being so apparent. His only problem now is that when he’s trying to spend time with Renji, y’know, read out in the living room while Renji lazes around on the floor nearby, now Renji is _not_ lazing around.

Given the opportunity to do something other than nap, Renji has tireless energy, and now he is almost constantly fucking around with something. He’s not pestering Ichigo to entertain him, true, because in those times when Ichigo’s busy reading or cooking and won’t interact with him, now Renji can play by himself in the corner. He flings a toy around for himself to fetch, taking it in his mouth and shaking it, letting it fly off to the other side of the room and then running after it. Occasionally, it ends up hitting Ichigo accidentally, and he’ll have to throw the toy back to him, watching in amusement as he holds stock still for a second and then chases it in a burst of speed, nabbing it.

He's  _noisy,_  thumping around, and is almost constantly in the way, or else he's on the verge of knocking something over and breaking it — but goddamnit, every time Ichigo gets irritated enough that he opens his mouth to tell him to shut the fuck up already, the words die at the sight of him. How can he scold someone who's so obviously having _fun._

It’s actually really fucking cute, watching this big guy chewing and pulling on this stupid little thing, holding it against the floor with his hands while he tugs with his head, growling playfully and then whipping it side to side with his teeth and then letting go, flinging it overhead. That time it landed on the counter, out of sight. Ichigo watched over the top of his book as Renji poked his head up, ears perked and alert as he looked around confusedly. He trots from one end of the room to the other, he peeks under the couch, pushes up on his knees to survey the top of the TV shelf — _W_ _here did it go?_

Unlike other animals, Renji has object permanence, and a basic understanding of visual tracking, so when Ichigo points at an object, Renji will intuitively look in the direction he points instead of looking at his finger. Renji keeps searching for his toy, circling back to spots he's already checked, and then he put his nose up on the couch, nudges Ichigo's leg with his hand —  _W_ _here is it? Do you see it?_

Ichigo points at the kitchen, and Renji bustles over there to scope it out. At last, he sees that the toy has fallen on the backside of the kitchen counter. He coils up once he spots it, bolting towards it and skidding across the slick floor, banging into a cabinet. Ichigo leans up to try and see if he's okay.

Renji peeks at him — _Hey, I found it!_ — toy sheep in his mouth. He holds up his hand and makes a thumbs up, and Ichigo finally breaks and starts laughing.

He’s ridiculous and really endearing, and Ichigo’s surprised at how good of a buddy he’s turning out to be. Renji's a funny guy.

 

. . .

 

Ichigo didn’t realize how much he’d started to look forward to coming home each day after work. It made such a difference having someone there to greet him, happy to see him back.

“I’m back,” he says as Renji comes out eagerly at the sound of him arriving, well-groomed and content, perky and bright-eyed.

He smiles and butts into Ichigo’s personal space to greet him — _‘Welcome home!’_

Ichigo showed him the grocery bags. "Look what I got for dinner."

Renji stood up and peeked into the bag. "Meat," he said aloud, to Ichigo's delight. Renji's got a nice voice. Plus it’s cute when he walks on all fours, but Ichigo likes it better when he stands up. It’s easier to look into his face — his happy, handsome face.

Renji snorted, giving that happy chuffing noise, the short growl-purr, and excitedly circled Ichigo. Ichigo didn’t have the heart to shoo him away even though he was big and he was getting underfoot. "Hungry?" Renji pats his stomach and Ichigo laughs. "Okay, okay."

He cooked a piece of chicken for himself while Renji wistfully sat nearby on the stool that Ichigo had put there for him to watch from so that he wouldn't pester him while he cooked.

Looking to him in a moment of consideration, Ichigo watched as Renji licked his chops. There were raw scraps on the cutting board not far away, but his eyes were fixated on the meat sizzling in the pan.

“Can you eat cooked food?” Ichigo wondered, it never having occurred to him before.

He knew it was bad to feed a pet tablefood, nevermind a big cat, but Renji isn’t the same as an animal. Renji’s not his _pet,_ he’s his buddy. He didn’t know why he’d never thought to offer him something other than raw meat before, but he hadn’t. Could Renji even eat tablefood? — and more importantly, Ichigo felt, did he _want_ to?

Renji stared for a moment, then did a deliberate shrugging motion, which Ichigo’s never seen him do before.

A moment later, as always, Ichigo felt silly for being surprised about that kind of thing. Renji still didn’t often communicate in the human way — even pointing at things or nodding his head was rare — so Ichigo always ended up assuming that he didn’t know how to do simple things like that, but he’d probably easily learned by seeing others do it at some point. He’s been owned by humans his whole life, after all, so of course he knows how to shrug and what it means. He knew how to shake hands and how to do a thumbs up. He knows how to talk. Just because he almost never does it doesn’t mean that he _can’t._

  
"You don't know, huh," he murmured thoughtfully.  
  


Renji pointed at the raw meat then, then pats his stomach. He also puts his hand towards the trashcan, then puts his fingertips to his mouth, tapping his lips like he’s eating — Ichigo takes that to mean that he’s eaten cooked food from the trash before, probably from his time on the streets, but not otherwise.

Ichigo can’t imagine being fed like a lab rat for his entire life, and suddenly remembered the dog food Grimmjow had told him to get. That’s probably what Renji’s been given to eat for years. That raw meat had to have been a real treat to him, and even that, Ichigo would never feed that to another person. _Dog food?  
_

He shuddered, and felt pity.  
  


“You’ve never…”  
  


He stared, brow furrowed for another moment or two, and then he cut another big portion and put it in the pan with his.

Ichigo’s not terrible, but he’s not the best cook either, no matter how Yuzu had tried to prepare him for life on his own by giving him cooking lessons — he really did his best that night, seasoning the rice and vegetables until it tasted perfect when he tested it.

He laid their bowls out, deliberately making them as appealing and picturesque as possible, and gave Renji a big helping of the meat on top — then set the bowls on the table.

“C’mon and sit,” Ichigo told him when Renji just stared after him, still perched on the stool.

Renji swallowed and sat himself across from him at the table, staring down at the bowl in front of him, nose twitching at the steam rising from it. He looked ravenous, his pupils blown wide like a shark that’s scented blood, but he was hesitating, like he thought he was being tested — like he thought he was mistaking the situation somehow, this food can’t be meant for him, Ichigo’s not really giving it to him. He’s straining like he thinks he can’t possibly be allowed to eat what’s in front of him and has to hold himself back, _has to resist—_

Ichigo put his palms together. “Itadakimasu,” he said.

Renji copied him. He didn’t speak, but he put his palms together as he’s seen Ichigo do many times before eating. Panting heavily, saliva gleaming on his lower lip, he sits there shuddering, claws grazing the tabletop, and again, Ichigo has to wonder at how cruelly he’s been treated that he thinks for even a second that Ichigo might torture him by putting food in front of him and not let him have it.

Once Ichigo takes a bite of his food, Renji can’t hold himself back anymore, putting his hand into his bowl, lowering his head and bringing some to his mouth messily. He snapped it up, chewed for a second, and stared at Ichigo, eyes wide with amazement. He groaned aloud and held the bowl up to his mouth, putting his face in it.

Ichigo stared for a second at the display, because there he goes again, feeling like a complete jerk. He’s been giving Renji cuts of meat this whole time, but has never bothered giving him any utensils, because _why would he_ when Renji did just fine using his teeth to rip it up. Fixing him the same meal that he was eating now though, he should’ve thought to give him something to eat it with, because he’s watched Renji eat like a dog eats from a bowl for weeks now and it’s never bothered him, but watching him put his hand in his food just now had been kind of... _startling._

Renji’s never shown that he minded having to eat with his hands, but that’s not the point. He doesn't doubt that he'd be capable of using utensils, and that's reason enough to give him some. In any case, he should have the option to try, if he wants.

Ichigo got up to grab another set of chopsticks for Renji and held them out to him. Renji pulled back, staring at them, cheeks full, rice on his lips. He chewed more slowly and swallowed, and then straightened and took the chopsticks excitedly — which makes Ichigo feel like a tool for not having done this sooner, look at him, of course he wants to try eating like him.

Renji grasps them in his fist and stuck them in his food, using them like a scoop, trying and failing to pick up anything without it falling through. “Here.” Ichigo reached out a hand halfway, waiting until Renji held his own hand out to him so he could manipulate his grip until he was holding them right.

After a few more failed attempts, he watched Ichigo eat for a long time before fixing his grip again. Ichigo could see his brain working as he tried to copy him exactly through careful observation. “You’re gripping too hard,” Ichigo explained, “You’re not supposed to squeeze.”

Renji kept trying, but he wasn’t getting the hang of it yet — Ichigo knows he can do it; the simple fact that he used his hands sometimes when he ate, instinctively touching his food and using his hands as tools to pry it apart and move it to his mouth, that told him that Renji was smart enough to do this too.  
  


 _‘He’s not a person’_ comes back to him, but Ichigo blocked it out. It’s not true — how can it be.  
  


Every time Ichigo gave Renji the opportunity to do something new, he picked it up so fast, a total natural, so quick to learn — the way any other human would acquire an innately human skill.

More than that, he was an excited student, soaking up everything that Ichigo teaches him. Even the stuff Ichigo doesn’t show him, Renji figures out himself, practicing what he sees by copying. He’s eager to do everything that Ichigo does.

Ichigo’s seen Renji use his dental floss — not his toothbrush, thank god — has seen him picking up books and staring at them very seriously, turning them this way and that, and he’s caught him poking at his phone, holding it to his ear and trying to look inside of it, even shaking it like he thinks something will fall out.

Ichigo doesn’t stop him when he finds him doing that kind of thing, never scolds him for any reason — how can he? It’s like he’s watching a person born in the darkness finally creep outside, it's like watching Renji build the foundation of his self-esteem as if it's something he's never, never had before. How can Ichigo take that away? How can he deprive him of that and make him think, _no, there are some things that only people get to do, and you are not a person._

He can't crush Renji like that when he's finally opening up. He tries so hard at everything, he's so earnest, and Ichigo won't stand in the way of Renji proving to himself that he's just as smart as a human being, that he’s capable, that he has feelings and a sense of individuality, that he’s a good person _—_ _good_ and not a wild animal, a bad dog to be kicked and muzzled.

Determined, Renji doesn’t give up with the chopsticks despite failing with them repeatedly. He didn’t abandon the task in frustration, refusing to relinquish the chopsticks and just eat from the bowl like before, not one more bite. He looked from his own hand to Ichigo’s several times over before every attempt, and when he failed yet again, he adjusted minutely until his grip was a perfect copy of Ichigo’s. He held his hand out to Ichigo to show him, and to confirm that their hands were a visual match. He seems to ask, _'I_ _s this right?'_

Ichigo felt his heart swelling out of his chest as he watched Renji try and try, mouth wide open, tongue out and waiting.

At last, he pinched the chopsticks together around some food and it stays there, and in that instant he shoved it in his mouth before it could fall. He chewed smugly, so satisfied with himself that it hurt to look at.

And then he tries again. And again. And he keeps trying—

That accomplishment, the way he derived so much self-worth from something as simple as that, it’s beautiful, to see an animal that had cowered away from him and done nothing but growl and track his movements, to see that animal's eyes glow with pride, as if for the first time he’s starting to believe, _‘I am smart’ — ‘I did it’ — ‘I can do everything you do’ —_

Ichigo realizes it then, that what he’s been trying to do most of all in treating Renji like he would treat a human friend, is to make him feel like that’s who he is. He wanted to stop him from looking at the floor, stop him from flinching away, stop him from acting like an animal just because he’s never had the opportunity to blossom and grow and reach his potential — he wanted to treat Renji with respect and kindness, because he’s seen that Renji is really a nice guy when you get to know him, when he’s not vicious from fear. He’s sweet, he’s loveable, he’s fun; Ichigo really likes him and wants Renji to like himself too.     _‘I am good’ — ‘I am a friend’ — ‘I am likeable.’_

He’s been trying to get Renji to trust him, he wants to treat him well until it’s not a surprise anymore, but something Renji expects — until Renji stands up straight and holds his head up and _knows_ inside himself from the way Ichigo treats him that he deserves it from others too.

       — _‘I deserve respect.’_  
  


That line of thought stopped, as it always did, when Renji’s eyes, bright with satisfaction, raise to Ichigo’s. They look at each other, Ichigo’s gaze going from one eye to the other, bloody orange, each of them a round harvest moon.

  An animal’s eyes.  
  


_‘They’re not people — don’t forget that, Ichigo.’_   
  


Ichigo grit his teeth, because it’s been building in the back of his mind for a while, uneasiness that won't go away, but now it just plain rubs him the wrong way. _‘That can’t be right. Just fucking look at him!’_

Renji squirmed with happiness, got another bite in, and looked up to Ichigo immediately, as if to say, _‘look, did you see that?’_  
  


“Hey, you got it!” Ichigo said, and Renji beamed and wriggled.  
  
  


_‘Look at how he shines. That can’t be right.’_


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being Human 101: in this course you will learn how to teach an adult the life skills that one is supposed to learn as a toddler.

After the whole _eating with chopsticks for the first time_ thing, Ichigo’s stopped replacing the dog toys Renji ripped through and has instead gotten him more appropriate ones, mostly because watching Renji attempt progressively more difficult tasks and the satisfaction he experiences as a result, it’s beautiful.

In introducing Renji to more challenging pastimes, he’s discovered that there’s a reason he still had such difficulty holding and using chopsticks. One of the first things he tries to do with Renji, weaning him off the pet toys he’d gotten him, was drawing.

He’d bought a coloring book to give Renji later, but at first, to see if he’d be interested in it, he just got some sheets of paper and some colored pencils and lay on the floor with them. He let Renji watch as he scribbled with a few different ones, so he can see that the color of the pencil matches the color on the page. He shows him the different kinds of lines he can make depending on how hard he presses, and then he starts to draw some pictures. At first Renji doesn’t really react, not recognizing the organization of the marks, not perceiving the representation of a face Ichigo has drawn, but when Ichigo says aloud what the pictures are, pointing to them, _dog, house, man,_ Renji doubletakes, and starts to get very excited.

He squirms and wiggles at Ichigo’s side, fidgeting until Ichigo moves some of the pencils towards him to let him try too. That’s when he realizes the thing about the chopsticks — Renji can’t hold a pencil either.

He's got the patience and intelligence of an adult, but he has very poor motor skills, equivalent to that of a toddler, and can’t make his hand do what he wants. Ichigo lets him struggle on his own for a bit to give him a chance to try on his own, and instead just sits on the floor with him and draws idly, watching Renji's many attempts.

It’s sad in a way, to watch an adult learn such a simple action for the first time. Renji takes pains to even hold the pencil, and when he drags it on the paper, his strokes end up wobbly and rough the way a child’s do when they’re first learning to write. His grip trembles as he struggles to replicate the specialized muscle control needed to accomplish such finely-tuned motions.

It's the same result Ichigo would turn up if he was trying to write with his unpracticed left hand — but poor Renji, it's no wonder he's at square one, considering he's never been given the opportunity to build that skill.  _Both_ his hands are left hands, like with any other beginner.

As always, he tries to jump straight into the deep end of the pool. Ichigo tries to show him that he can hold the pencil in his fist for now if it helps him grip it better, but Renji stubbornly refuses and continues to copy the way Ichigo holds it.

It’s alarming how quickly he improves. He frequently breaks the lead and his lines are very unsteady, but he seems so pleased with being able to do that much that Ichigo felt sure that it really was the first time in his life holding a pencil, his first time making a mark on a piece of paper. It's disgusting, in a way.

Over the next few days, Renji eagerly copies Ichigo and makes some simple objects. He can do a continuous line without lifting the pencil and close it at the top to make a circle. He can follow along with Ichigo step by step to make a basic picture, _tree, flower, dog_ — he can even try to draw something from his own head after Ichigo prompts him, taking the picture in his imagination and making a clumsy representation on the page.

A color blob that might be Ichigo, pink and orange, another pink and red, another pink and black. Renji keeps that one in his room.

After a day or so letting him practice, Ichigo gives him the coloring book, and shows him how to color in the pre-printed image. Renji eagerly fills in the entirety of each page, right up to the edges. It’s a bright mishmash of color, so Ichigo doesn't bother telling him to stay in the lines.

That occupies him so well that Ichigo realizes how starved Renji has to be for some mental stimulation. He's so quiet and focused, thinking hard, way more than anyone should over a coloring book.

Ichigo keeps getting him simple puzzles and doodads to fiddle with and draw in, because it keeps coming back to him — Renji is a trapped brain. If he thinks about it too much, it starts to really disturb him, because then he has to awknowledge that the whole institution of neko breeding and distribution as pets is basically slavery under a different name. If he thinks about it too much he has to wonder if every other neko is just like Renji, with the full potential, capability, and intelligence of a human being, locked away and kept down.

Ichigo is powerless to stop the machine that has produced this monstrous cycle, but he can help Renji individually, he can help him take those steps. It's not like he was meant to be a teacher or anything, but he does his best.

One thing he’s noticed Renji struggles with is recognizing representations of an object. He’s getting better after drawing with Ichigo so many times, he can draw a dog on a piece of paper and see _dog,_ not just paper, but Ichigo’s noticed that out of context, it doesn’t carry over.

For instance, when Ichigo started bringing him kid puzzles, it took Renji a long time to get the hang of that, because he just _doesn't see_ the picture.

Ichigo would open the box, spread the pieces out, and kept telling Renji out loud, “Look at the picture,” and would point to the box, which showed an image of some birds in a tree, but Renji stares uncomprehendingly, not catching on. When Ichigo shows him an individual piece, his eyes glaze over the image and only focus on the physical shape of the piece itself. It's discouraging, because a huge part of adult human life is _reading,_ is recognizing images in pictures and on screens. Visual representations are everywhere, it’s inescapable. 

And it totally sucks, because Ichigo doesn't know how to teach Renji to  _do_  that. It's something that you pretty much have to learn from infancy. Perception and recognition skills are things that a person's brain does in a microsecond — Renji's pretty slow on the uptake, and Ichigo can't think to do much about it other than show Renji patience and repetition and hope he'll get it, so that's what he does. 

Ichigo started assembling the edge, working from the corners out, and Renji, eager to participate, began adding pieces too, making them fit where they didn’t belong by forcing it.

“No, not there. You have to match the picture, see?” Ichigo tried again, pointing at different parts of the picture on the box, describing them out loud, hoping that will help. He held up a puzzle piece that matched the image on the box and pointed between them so Renji could visually match it by seeing they're the same.

“Look here, looks like we need some leaves next, see the picture?” he tried, pointing between them, and he watches as the wheels turn, as Renji slowly moves his gaze from one to the other, like he's at least realized that he's missing something but still can't figure it out.

“A red leaf. Where’s a piece with a red leaf and a green leaf… Here, see?" He holds up the piece they need, and points to the spot on the box again. "Red and green goes in this corner.” Then he looked down at the puzzle, holding the piece, and points to the same corner.

He gives the piece to Renji, who immediately tries jamming it on, because it physically fits that way, bubble in the hole, but Ichigo patiently said, “Okay, maybe turn it.” Renji takes it back out, tentatively turning it, looking to Ichigo for approval. “Other way. Yeah. There, see how it matches? Yeah.” Renji sticks it in, still only able to gauge his success by whether Ichigo said it was right or not.

Ichigo repeated this process over and over until Renji slowly, _god, so slowly,_ started to get it without needing to be prompted as much. “Okay, this part has some sky on it and some dark green leaves. See any sky pieces?” Renji gathers some pieces with light blue, and then questioningly pointed at the box with his finger and then the pieces he’d found.

 _Thank fuck,_ he can tell they match. “Yeah, you got it, smart guy!” Renji’s tail waves excitedly, a smile blooming on his face.

By the time Renji is able to self-correct and actually see his own mistakes, he doesn't need Ichigo's help as much anymore, and once he really starts to  _get it_ and is able to do simple puzzle kits on his own without any assistance — slowly, they still take him a very long time to complete — Ichigo decides to really push the limits and buys a couple model plane sets.

He gets his out on the counter, having pulled the chairs up against it, and starts putting his together as Renji hovers at his elbow. “You want to make one too?” Renji vibrates with excitement, eyes shining as he picks up the box Ichigo has for him, crowding his face against the picture, probably not knowing what an airplane is anyways but aware enough to think that it looks _cool_ — Ichigo instructs him as he opens the box up and lays out the fragile wood sheets.

He shows Renji the numbers printed onto the pieces despite knowing that he can’t read them. He's fairly confident he'll still be able to get it, because the skill Renji seems to rely on to learn things is definitely _copying,_ and by extension, he knows how to match things. Hopefully he'll be able to get by with that.

Renji puts some unrelated pieces together at first, just like before with the puzzles, because they do physically fit despite not belonging. He looks at the box intensely, seeming to already know that he's got it wrong and is trying to spot his mistake — which is progress in itself — but it's pretty much impossible, just going from the picture.

He looks at Ichigo and his partly-assembled plane, and takes the pieces apart again. Ichigo just keeps on working on his own, wanting to give him a chance to struggle a little bit, because there's not as much satisfaction in the accomplishment otherwise. He doesn't think for a second that this is too hard for Renji to do.

Renji fiddled around for a while, but starts to get a little anxious when Ichigo gets farther along and he still can't make any progress. At last he pats Ichigo's arm a little, then gives him a big frown, shoulders slumping grumpily —  _How do you you do this? Show me how you do this—_

Ichigo plays stupid. "What?" Renji slouches a little more, hunched over the counter, tail snaking back and forth behind him.  
  


"I... can't," he finally muttered aloud, reluctant and ashamed.  
  


"Aw hey," Ichigo amends, feeling like a total dick. The first time Renji verbalizes a sense of self, and it's to say that he can't do something.

"Don't get discouraged. You totally can. Here, gimme'." Ichigo shows him the numbers again. "You can't work from the picture with this one. You've gotta' match the numbers. See? Look right here."

He points at the tiny number on the piece Renji had started with, and then shows him the corresponding number on the correct pieces — after the practice with the puzzles before, Renji picks this up a lot quicker, and begins squinting at the tiny wooden pieces, scrutinizing the numbers and putting them together.

Renji perked right up once he started getting somewhere, alert and intensely focused.

Ichigo works on his own for a time, really getting into it, because he hasn’t done this kind of thing since he was a kid, and never such an advanced one — and is distracted by a _snap._

Renji gasps aloud, freezing. Ichigo looks up to find Renji staring at his palms, aghast, a broken piece in his hand.

“... Whoops,” Ichigo noted mildly, and Renji lets out an unhappy cry. "What happened?" Distressed, Renji shows him the piece, splintered pretty pathetically. "Oh, that's pretty messed up."

Renji actually got pretty emotional over it, absolutely crestfallen — _I broke it_ — but Ichigo reassured him, “Hey, it’s not ruined. I got it, one sec’.”

Renji watches in fascination as Ichigo holds the piece up to his eye and carefully glues it. “There, just let it dry for awhile.” Consoled, Renji works on the remaining pieces with painstaking care.

One thing Renji does have going for him is determination. He has a great attention span, and can stay focused on a task for a very long time — it’s actually pretty impressive, because Ichigo would’ve expected him to be more squirrely and easily distracted. He doesn’t know when Renji would’ve had the opportunity to learn that kind of patience and mental discipline, but it’s a real plus. They sit there together side by side for a few hours, putting the delicate thing together, attaching the pieces, applying the stickers. When they’re completed, Ichigo jokingly pretends to make the plane fly, and Renji copies him, beaming from his ears to his tail —  _I made what you made!_

Their lives go on in this way, Ichigo brings Renji fun things to do, little jobs, little games, trying to gauge his abilities and inadvertently help him learn simple things.

How to grip and twist the top of a bottle — remove the caps from the empty sodas and put them in recycling. How to pour liquid from one container into another without spilling — pour yourself a glass of water; take care of some potted plants by watering them; put a measured amount of soap in the bath. How to visually sort items — sort a bowl of black and white beans onto two different plates; separate the tall books and short books onto different shelves. How to exercise grip control — use a pair of tongs to pick up small objects and transfer them; pick up marbles off the floor by pinching with your hands; hold a pencil; use an eyedropper; wind up a piece of string. 

It’s pretty interesting, watching Renji grow. Ichigo feels privileged in a way, almost certain that no one else in the world has bothered to go this far, to test the limits of neko intelligence, how similar they are to humans. How far can Renji go? Can he understand what numbers are, for instance, can he be taught to use his fingers to count?

It’s slow going, and it’s no wonder as to why. Ichigo imagines that Renji is exactly how any human would end up if they were never taught anything as a kid. Humans are very social creatures, and shape their intelligence at a young age. The more they are talked to and interacted with, the better — but Renji was never taught anything as a kid, was treated like a pet, and most likely learned everything he knew about life from the meager amount he was able to pick up through watching his human caretakers. He’s sort of what a human would look like if they were raised from birth in a lab, never able to communicate with others, never allowed to build those lifeskills, growing up in complete isolation. The natural potential is there, the intelligence is there, but none of it has been shaped into something he could use to interact with the world humans occupied.

He’s forever separated, unable to break through and express what he thinks and feels, and it made Ichigo wonder, if he’d been raised the same way as a human child, if there would be any difference between them at all. It made Ichigo desperate to help him.

Renji’s fine motor skills are passable after enough practice with the pencil, but he found it hard to pick up small objects, having to focus hard to make a pincer grip with his forefinger and thumb. He has quick reflexes and is able to catch an object out of the air in his mouth, but catching and throwing with his hands is very hard for him. If Ichigo says a word aloud, Renji can make the connection between the word and a picture on a piece of paper — _show me the flower, show me the bird_. He understands abstract concepts like  _soft and rough, heavy and light—_

It can be hard at times to teach someone things that are so basic they seem like common sense. Even though many of those things are something that have to be learned from very early childhood and otherwise difficult to pick up later, Renji is a very quick learner. He picks up on patterns very quickly, so if Ichigo shows him something enough times, using the exact same words, and repeats it enough, Renji eventually gets it and follows the pattern.

It’s probably not a good idea, Grimmjow would probably tell him to stop, but Ichigo can _see_ the personal satisfaction Renji derives from being able to accomplish a task, sees the pride he takes in realizing he can do things on his own.

 

Really, it's his own fault for getting in this deep — but Renji glows, and Ichigo can't stop himself. Once you teach someone something, that's a light in the darkness that can never be taken away again.  
  


. . .

 

Renji seemed to really like human food, by far preferring it. He’d still eat a raw meal, but if Ichigo gave him the option, he liked to eat what Ichigo ate for dinner.

He got really happy when Ichigo cooked, hovering at his shoulder to look and smell, tail up, ears forward — it’s totally adorable.

He tapped his own chest several times, _me, me too,_ trying to get Ichigo’s attention, and then put his palms together.

Ichigo laughed. “Yeah, yeah, some for you too.” Renji smiled with his teeth, tumbling through the house with excitement; he threw himself around on the living room rug, using the sofa as a crash mat.

“Crazy cat,” he muttered, shaking his head.

He cooks, and Renji came in several times to watch, hovering nearby and peering around him each time he opened the fridge, peeking inside of it curiously. Ichigo’s scolded him enough that Renji never opens it himself, but he looks at it longingly.

He lets Renji help with a lot of things, but he didn’t give Renji any tasks in the kitchen, instead cooking by himself. It’s not that he thinks Renji’s too stupid and that he’d cut or burn himself by accident. It’s not like he doesn’t trust him, either — they’re buddies. He just thinks it’s better not to put a knife in his hand, that’s all.

Renji seemed happy enough to watch anyways. Ichigo cooked something new each night, resolving to show Renji what he’s been missing. He still can’t imagine spending his life eating only dog food or raw meat, or whatever else he’d been fed his whole life through.

He's brought him different fruits and let him eat some bread, but he tries to avoid giving him any dairy. He’s discovered that like every other mammal besides humans, Renji can't digest milk. He hadn't realized until he'd let him have some yogurt. Renji had really liked it, but had ended up completely miserable with a really bad stomachache.  
  


He makes oyakodon tonight so that Renji can try eggs.  
  
  
He hadn’t thought about it much, but he was really starting to enjoy having Renji there — it was a slow and steady thing that he only realized the next time Grimmjow called, because he felt a sharp and sudden drop in his mood.  
  
Part of him wondered, _is it time?_ Not already, surely—  
  


Ichigo picked up, glancing behind him at Renji where he’d settled in the living room, occupying himself on the floor with his ragged toy sheep when he tired of coloring.

“Hello?” he muttered.

“Checking in. You alive?”

In higher spirits then — because it’s not time yet, and it somehow seemed like a relief — Ichigo reported, “Yeah, everything’s going great. No more trouble.” Almost smiling, he stood at the stove, tucking his phone into his shoulder.

“Y’know, he’s actually a really nice guy. He’s been helping me around the house.”

“You let it out again?” Grimmjow remarked darkly.

“I never put him back, so yeah.”

“Ichigo,” he said. “What the fuck.”

“No, it’s okay,” Ichigo tried, because of course that would sound crazy to Grimmjow, but Grimmjow doesn’t know Renji, doesn’t know how awesome he is, doesn’t know that Renji wouldn’t hurt him, not anymore, they’re _buddies —_ “Really, he—”

 _“You’ve fucking cracked,”_ Grimmjow hissed harshly, cutting him off. Ichigo’s shoulders lowered.

“Kurosaki, I gave you this job because I thought you’d take it seriously, having a wild animal in your house. It could kill you,” he said seriously, and through the rough tone, Ichigo could hear the concern. “It could _get out,_ like, onto the street. Do you fucking understand how bad that would be?”

“He’s not an animal,” he said, and this time he wasn’t so hesitant about it, didn’t sound unsure, because it’s actually starting to really tick him off. “He’s intelligent.”

“Ichigo,” he barked, in the way you would to snap someone out of it. “It can’t even talk.”  
  


_‘They can’t even talk,’_ he thinks.     Except Renji _does_ talk — sometimes.  
  


“He learns things,” Ichigo tried, but he can hear that it’s one of those things that’s impossible to convince a person of if they haven’t come to that conclusion on their own. “He _does.”_

“It can be taught to do tricks, but you can teach tricks to a lot of animals,” he said, like he’s talking to someone who was slow and didn’t get it. “It doesn’t mean anything special.”

A steely hard edge coming into his voice, Ichigo set his jaw and refused, “If you’re asking me to put him in a cage like a zoo animal, I have to say no. He doesn’t deserve it. We’re getting along.” Because it seems ridiculous to him now, the safety concern. Renji's not a danger to him. Renji isn't going to hurt him.  
  


“I’m asking you to keep it in its fucking place.” Ichigo had to blink for a couple moments at that, taken aback.  
  


“All he wants is a little human dignity,” he argued, because it’s not so much to ask, it’s so clearly deserved, so clearly valued, made Renji _glow—_  
  


“Ichigo, _wake up._ It’s not a fucking human,” he says harshly, voice cold and disconnected, and it’s like an electric shock. “It’s not human — it has no dignity.”  
  


Ichigo was silent, struck dumb, his heart heavy and cold. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. The thing is, it’s not anything out of the ordinary, shouldn't disturb him, but after these weeks he’d lived with Renji, gotten to know him, those words turn his stomach, make his heart pound with sickness, they stop his breath.

“I’m sure it’s, y’know, endearing or whatever. Tigers are cute, so of course you like it. I’m glad in a way that it’s calmed down enough that it hasn’t killed you the moment you let it out, it’s good that you’re getting along—” Grimmjow conceded, but the words hit him numbly, it’s as if he’s somewhere else and can hear them through the wall. “— But don’t trust it,” he finished.

“This isn’t like one of those neko on the TV. Those are pets. The tiger neko — it’s wild, and a smart wild animal is dangerous, because it’s smart enough to trick you. It’ll play nice and stab you in the back.”     
  


_‘Renji would never do that to me — we’re friends,’_ Ichigo wanted to say, but the words stuck in his throat.  
  


“Don’t let your guard down,” Grimmjow growled insistently, “and don’t let it think you see it as an equal. No matter what.”  
  


Ichigo thought of the handshake, his stomach churning, because that was when Renji had started to trust him. That’s when he’d started to calm down enough that he was able to be talked to, that he’d bothered trying to communicate back, once Ichigo had shown that he’d actually listen.

   — Once he had started to treat him with some basic respect.  
  


“Understand?” Grimmjow demanded, when he didn’t answer, still living out that moment of horror, _no dignity, no dignity—_  
  


“I don’t think… Grimmjow,” he tried pathetically, trailing off.  
  


“Say that you fucking understand me.”  
  


Ichigo ground his jaws together. Grimmjow was counting on him with this job. Counting on him not to jeopardize this mission, not to jeopardize _Renji._

Whatever else he might say that rubbed Ichigo the wrong way, that’s what he’s concerned with, that Ichigo’s cracking and is going to compromise this whole operation, that he’s the weak link, getting his feelings involved and getting attached to the transport animal like an owner for a pet, enough that something could go wrong.  
  


“I understand,” he forced, letting the word come out bitter and acrid.  
 

There was a long silence, and if Grimmjow were here, he’d be narrowing his eyes and staring him down. Finally, he said, “Good.” He sighed roughly.  
  


“I shouldn’t have involved you in this.” It’s the closest he’s gotten to saying sorry, and that’s what this means — _I’m sorry._ “I know it’s a lot even for a professional, but we needed someone they wouldn't suspect. I thought I could fucking count on you, so don’t make me regret this.”       _I’m sorry._  
  


_“I know,”_ Ichigo grunted, closing his eyes. “I get it.”  
  


“Not much longer. It’ll be over soon.”   _Are you mad?_   “I owe you for this,” he said begrudgingly.  
  


“Yep.”  
  


“Okay. Stay healthy,” he said awkwardly, he’s not good at being nice.

_  
You’re my only friend and I’m worried about you, I’m sorry I put you through this, I won’t do it again, just get through this—_

 

“Remember what I said.”  
  


“Yeah. Bye Grimm.”

 

Ichigo hung up the phone with a long sigh through his nose. He cracked his neck. “Renji, food’s ready,” he called, sullen and lost in thought.

Renji’s already an expert with his chopsticks, rarely slipping up. He eagerly tries every new piece of food, eats appreciatively, ears perked and happy. He cleaned his plate.  
  


Renji likes the eggs.

 

 

_‘_ _It has no dignity.’_


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was just planning a double update but then i realized how short this chapter is, so what the hell, have this one too.

Ichigo doesn’t know when it happened exactly. Maybe it was one of those thing that happened gradually, but it feels like he just woke up one morning and realized how much things have really changed. He and Renji have gotten so much closer than he'd ever thought possible, enough that Renji has grown _trusting_ of him, even a bit affectionate.

Ichigo reciprocates it, because he’s not worried in the least anymore that Renji will hurt him. Renji clearly enjoys being with him, _likes him_ even, and Ichigo likes him too.

Experts say that even pet tigers will never truly be tamed in the same way as a housecat, which has been domesticated for millennia, while tigers have not — but Renji’s not just an animal. He’s Ichigo’s friend.

Renji is there when he wakes up, peeking up over the edge of his bed, glowing gold eyes beaming at him, tail and ears poking up — _‘Good morning!’_    He’s at his side as Ichigo goes through his morning routine, and does what Ichigo does in companionable silence.

He washes his face, diligently brushes his teeth — with his own new toothbrush — combs his hair, gets dressed, and eats breakfast with him. He follows him around from the moment he gets home, and he’s there to watch him leave for work in the morning.

Renji has come to trust him very much, enough that he will let him touch his ears and twist them to check them for fleas, enough that he will let Ichigo comb and style his hair up into a high tail, revealing his handsome face and shoulderline — enough that he will push his head into Ichigo’s hand sometimes to invite him to stroke him when he wants some attention.

He doesn’t flinch anymore except at loud noises; never from Ichigo. Renji trusts him, _likes_ him. He’s even playful with him, goading and teasing him, and despite how much he likes to draw with Ichigo or do much of anything as long as Ichigo’s doing it too, he still likes playing in his old way of throwing himself around on the floor. He’ll annoy Ichigo endlessly until they wrestle or chase around the house. Ichigo’s glad they’ve gotten that relaxed with each other, because it’s actually a lot of fun.

Only downside is that once Renji put it together that Ichigo will not hurt or scold him for being a little menace, and that Ichigo will _play_ with him and is a very fun playmate, he pestered him and sought attention almost constantly, and got grumpy if Ichigo didn’t want to play with him.

“You’re not a kid, why are you this needy,” Ichigo complained half-heartedly, “go occupy yourself.”

He usually breaks and ends up playing with Renji anyways, because he puts on a good show of looking miserable and helpless, lying around on the floor like a lump and making sad moose noises until Ichigo gives him his way, the brat.

After he’d started teaching Renji little things, given him human activities to do, it’s gotten miles easier to interact with each other. Renji rarely ignores Ichigo when he talks to him, attentive and eager to respond, even if it was usually only through facial expressions and an occasional hand motion. Being able to communicate more clearly means that he can avoid having to wrestle or play tug of war with a poor unfortunate dishrag by showing Renji other games.

Just as he is with any new thing, Renji’s eager to learn how to play. He is patient and focused as Ichigo explained the rules in a manner that he could understand. Ichigo's quickly realized that Renji was capable of grasping ideas far more abstract than he had first assumed, and that once the basic building blocks were there, his mind was incredibly plastic and accepted new concepts almost immediately, the crafty bastard. He’s really picked up steam, learning from and rarely repeating mistakes. That being said, Ichigo was able to teach him how to play something as complicated as checkers fairly easily.

Thing is, if Ichigo picked the game, Renji is incredibly willing to go along with it, letting Ichigo teach him. If he’s left unoccupied, that’s another story, because once he tires of his usual activities, he’ll find his own ways to entertain himself.  
  


Renji’s play, if left to his own devices, is hunting Ichigo around the house.  
  


Ichigo’s had a heart attack a couple times now because Renji’s so damn fast and so quiet, and so _big,_ and he usually didn’t see it coming — once though, he saw it happen out of the corner of his eye when he was sitting on the couch.

Renji must have mastered the box of junk Ichigo had given him, _a zipper, a pocket with a button, a padlock and key,_ because he’s since abandoned it.  He was there on the floor, digging his shoulders down, his nails going into the carpet, his tail like a snake behind him, going side to side. He really did look wild, and a sudden thrill shot through Ichigo when Renji’s eyes glittered. ' _Is he really going to—'_

  
Suddenly, he pounced onto him, heavy and rough, tackling him to the floor with a _whump._  
  


Once Ichigo got over the shock, because _whoa, that knocked the fucking wind right out of him, he is fucking strong,_ he yelled.

“Hey! _Rude?”_

Renji gently mouthed at him, play-biting as he struggled, holding him down. “Damnit, Renji!” he shouted, but started to laugh as Renji kept nipping around his ears. His neck is sensitive, and that really tickles. “Ahaha— Hey! You, hah— you… Pff-hah! Ah!”  
  


Renji started to laugh too.  
  


Ichigo stilled, laughter dying away, and they looked into each other’s eyes for a second. Renji’s smiling widely, a deep rich laugh vibrating his chest. A human laugh. Ichigo’s never heard it before.

 

    He hadn't known he could do that.

 

. . .

  


Ichigo did some laundry, walking into the front room with the basket, and sees Renji wistfully looking out the window at the street below — and he pauses, watching him for a moment or two, the way he has his nose on the glass, his drooping ears.  
  


Something aches inside him, hot in tight. Something with nowhere to go, nothing to be done.  
  


Renji’s probably restless, cooped up in here. Ichigo tried not to think about how that room had been Renji’s cage for a short time. The apartment is still just a slightly bigger cage.

He’s thought about taking Renji outside before. He has. He would do it too, but knew he can’t take the risk. He’s been careless as it is, letting Renji wander the house making as much noise as he does — taking him outside is a stretch too far, even if he was in a good disguise.

He doesn’t like to think about it too much, how risky this all is, not just his personal safety, but being arrested. If Ichigo was caught with a neko, caught sheltering one, he could go to jail for a long time — like, swat team, black helicopters over his house, everybody he _knows_ is questioned, go to court and then be sent to a blacksite and never be heard from again. He’d be in a lot of trouble, _ruin-your-life_ trouble. He can’t risk that.

He’s thought of dressing Renji up in a hoodie and taking him for a short walk many times, because it wouldn’t be that hard to disguise him, but so much could go wrong. He doesn’t know how Renji would react to being outside for one, and though Renji was far from an animal, he didn’t make a convincing human at all. Ichigo was used to him, but he wouldn’t fool anyone else for a hot second.  
  


He hoped, rather bitterly, that Grimmjow would come soon.  
  


He hoped that when they take Renji to the sanctuary, that he will be kept outside. He hopes they have a big field for Renji to run around in, trees for him to scratch and mark, a jungle-gym to climb, no fences, no bars. Because if he can't live in the human world, he at least hopes that as an animal, he's got that much.  
  


And... he hopes there’s others like him — hopes that there’s friends for him there.

 

     It shouldn’t hurt to think about.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're approaching the Romantic Sad ™


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enough screwing around with filler chaps, time to advance the plot

There’s a knock on the front door.  


Ichigo looked up from the couch, giving a quick glance down the hallway. He and Renji have a protocol for when people come to the door.

It’s easy enough. Renji’s scared of strangers, so it’s easy to tell him to hide and not come out when someone knocks, because he does it automatically. It’s probably why he’s never tried to leave the house.

When he opens the door today though, he realizes that he’s in deep shit — it’s Rukia, and she’s going to want to come in.

He realized then that in the weeks he’s had Renji over, he hasn’t had another person in the house in that whole time, hasn’t had to think about what to do in that nightmare scenario — but she was going to want to come in now.      
  


_While Renji is here._  
  


There isn’t even time for him to concoct a lie about his apartment being fumigated, so you can’t come over, Rukia, sorry! It’s too late, and he doesn’t know what to do other than _not let her come in at any cost._

“Hey!” he greeted preemptively, not moving out of the doorway to let her pass. He can’t let her in. He has to keep her outside, even if he has to be mean to her. He can’t fucking break, this is too important.

“I brought Swiss hot chocolate,” she announced, raising the bag proudly, and fuck him sideways, she’s only said one thing and this is already hard — he wants that fucking chocolate.

“Uhh, you didn’t say you were coming!” he blurted, leaning to the other side when she tried to slip around him.

“Since when do you care about me dropping in?” Great, he’s already raising suspicion, fuck this.

“Some warning would've been nice!” He wished his voice didn’t get so high and squeaky when he was nervous. He blocked her again.

“Let me in!” she finally demanded, “What is the matter with you?”

“Nothing, nothing, hehhh,” he laughed, scratching his hair and feeling like Keigo. “Let’s drink up and then go for a walk, it’s so nice out.”  
  


Looks like he had to let her in — let her in and then get her the fuck _out_ of here as soon as possible.  
  


Ichigo thinks fast. He knows that Renji’s in his room. He just hoped he’ll be quiet in there and that he won’t come out until she leaves. He was shy enough of other people that he probably wouldn’t show his face.

He’ll be in deep shit if Rukia finds out. She can’t find out about this secret. What’s more is that while Ichigo doesn’t feel he’s in personal danger from Renji, he doesn’t know how he’ll react around others, and on top of that, he doesn’t want to put Rukia in that kind of situation — doesn’t want to incriminate her either when she has nothing to do with this. This is a total fucking shitshow. He has to get her out of here before someone gets hurt or arrested.  
  


“Why’d you bring this anyways,” Ichigo wondered, taking a look at the package — okay, this is fine, just keep her talking — “It’s summer.”

“Best time for hot chocolate.”   

“I mean… you’re not wrong,” he noted, but frowned a little, because it came off a little flat. “Did something happen?”

She shrugged a little, looking down, which wasn’t like her.  
  


“Trouble at home?” he guessed, and it’s a stretch, but he had to guess. That’s pretty much the only thing that ever made her sad.

“Not exactly. Brother is…” She gave a long sigh. “He’s been cold lately.”  
  


Ichigo set his jaw. Rukia isn’t the best at cheering people up —she usually hits him to try and ‘snap him out of it,’ which is kind of messed up — but he loves her, and in those rare times when she’s the one who needs comfort, Ichigo knows exactly who to blame.  
  


“If Byakuya’s being a jerk, tell him to get the stick out of his— No, you know what? _I’ll_ tell him.” He means it too. He’s got no beef with Rukia’s brother, but he’s one of those people who’s obviously never been told no, never had someone talk straight to him and tell him to quit _fucking up_ his relationship with his sister who thinks he’s the sun and stars— goddamn, Byakuya.

“Leave it,” she refused. “You’ll just make things worse.” Belatedly, she added the obligatory, “Fool.”

Ichigo pressed his lips together. Despite all the clattering around in the kitchen, it was still quiet in the hallway.  
  


“It doesn’t matter,” she said briskly. “He must be trying to make up for it — he’s the one who got the chocolate!”

“Oohh, it’s rich people hot-chocolate then.” Ichigo took another look at the package; it looked fancy.

Rukia reached up to the cabinet, trying to get some mugs out, but her fingers only brush on the handles.

“Move it.”

“I got it!”

“You’re gonna’ break it!” She jabbed him in the side and jumped for it as they shoved each other. Ichigo swiped it and held it out of reach for a second.

“Hahaaa, you’re such a shrimp!” he teased, immediately walloped in the gut, _“Oof!”_  
  


They mix, heat, then sip the chocolate from mugs. “Mm,” Ichigo notes, “This is Byakuya’s? Gimme’ the bag.” Taking another look at it, twisting his face up, he muttered, “I’d half-expect there to be Commander Seaweed on this thing.”

“Wakame Ambassador!” she corrected, sputtering indignantly.

Ichigo laughed, and Rukia laughed back at last, her face relaxing. He’s missed his friend, he really has.  
  


_Click_ goes the door in the hallway as it opens, and Ichigo’s face drops, eyes widening, his heart jolting into high gear.

Rukia must not have heard it, still giggling a little and sipping her chocolate. Ichigo stood slowly, seeing Renji timidly peeking out of his room, eye glowing through the crack.  
  


_‘Close the door,’_ he thinks frantically, _‘Close it!’_  
  


“Let’s go for that walk now,” he said bleakly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing — let’s go.”  
  


She’s not going to let it go now because he’s handled this in the worst way possible — there’s no way she hasn’t caught on to something being wrong and she never lets that kind of stuff drop.

“Tell me why you’re acting so weird!” she demanded.

Nerves making him frustrated, Ichigo shouted, “Rukia, just—!”  
  


She stood up, and Ichigo wasn’t sure if it was raising his voice that had done it or if Renji hadn’t been able to see Rukia until that moment and that one motion had finally put her squarely in his view from the door — because in that instant, the door bursts open and he’s shot out in a flash.

One second Rukia’s standing there in front of him, hands on her hips, and the next she’s tackled to the floor, wind knocked out of her, _crushed._  
  


“Stop!” Ichigo shouted, panicked — _where is the gun case, shit, she’s getting mauled, fuck, it’s horrible —_ It’s! It's—…  
  


Renji is licking Rukia’s face, flinging her around on the floor, she’s so tiny that he’s just _dragging her_ like nothing, and it would’ve looked like he was trying to hurt her if not for the way he was smiling excitedly.

Rukia looked scared, fuck, why wouldn’t she be, she’s so small and this huge guy that could break her with one hand had just jumped on her out of nowhere _—_ As soon as she could breathe,she _shrieked,_ but when Renji turned her around towards him, holding her up to look into his face, she went abruptly quiet and _white as a fucking sheet_ —

For a second Ichigo thought it was because she’d seen his ears and realized what was going on, there’s a neko in his house, god, he is in so much fucking trouble — but they just keep staring at each other.  
  


“Renji?” she whispered, lip quivering. “Renji!” she cried.  
  


She flung her arms around his shoulders without hesitation, stopping Ichigo’s heart, watching as they held each other. Renji cradled her with his hands, turning gentle in an instant, so much bigger than her that he can kneel there on the floor while she stands in front of him and embraces him. Ichigo can see tears running on Renji’s face as he holds her, nuzzling his face against her shoulder, her chest, wrapping himself around her like he can swallow her with his body, like he can keep her.  
  


“Rukia,” he croaked, this raw fragile thing — _‘You’re really here.’_  
  


How did they know each other? They _knew_ each other? _What the—_  
  


Still stunned into silence, Ichigo settled for sinking down onto the floor with them once emotions had been vented and the two of them had stopped crying and hugging so fiercely.  
  


Renji was unwilling to let go, so Rukia sat there and let him. Shuffled up against her, his big head was placed on top of hers, chin in her hair. His hands gently touch her face, her hair, as though he was still amazed she was here and can’t believe she’s real.  
  


“I have questions,” she said, very composed about it for someone with a giant tiger-man crawling all over them.

“That’s fair,” Ichigo sighed, hand over his eyes, because it’s too late to make up some lie. No point crying about spilt milk, she’s found out, so now he has to tell her.    
  


More to the point, she’d never told him before that she knew a _tiger-neko,_ what the fuck, Rukia?  
  


“Hey, me too!” he said indignantly. “One, how the fuck do you two know each other, I’ve never seen him act like this.” Renji’s gotten pretty friendly with him over the past weeks, but he doesn’t do _this_ kind of stuff, not even close!

Renji _loves_ Rukia — just look at him! He tries grooming her and licking her head, then spits lightly and pulled a hair off his tongue, settling for smoothing his hand on her head lovingly, petting her. He butted his head onto her like he wanted to rub her smell all over him, trying to get her attention back — _‘I love you! Rukia, Rukia!’_  He keeps doing that purr-growl too, rumbling affectionately.  
  
When they'd first met, he'd been so skittish and hostile that Ichigo had never imagined that he might react like this to any other human — with love.  
  


She seemed to think for a long time, as if hesitant to tell him, or perhaps just touching on bad memories, because when she speaks, what she said was, “You know I was an orphan.”

Rukia’s never really talked about that part of her life beyond that basic fact. Ichigo straightened.

“For a while, I lived on the streets with a group of other kids. We were like wild animals, living on scraps, hiding from adults,” she recalled. “Renji was one of my friends.”

Ichigo tried to imagine it, can’t wrap his head around it. _‘The gap in his file,’_ he realizes, but still can’t quite believe it, a neko child, able to avoid capture out in the open city for over a year.

“When they caught us, I went to an orphanage with the other kids, but I never saw him again,” she recounted, a touch of bitterness in her voice. Then she smiled fondly.  
  


“I can’t believe he remembers me.”  
  


She put her little hand on Renji’s head and he basked under it, rubbing his big dumb face on her palm — look at him. There’s clearly no chance in hell that Renji would’ve ever forgotten her to the day he died. His eyes are sparkling like stars.  
  


“Ichigo,” she said then, “What’s going on?” Her face is troubled, because she knows, how can she not. She knows how much trouble he’s in, how deep he’s in this stew, because the simple fact that Renji is here means something really big is happening.

“How is he here?”  
  


Eventually Renji settled for lounging there on the floor next to her, eyes closing in bliss as she vigorously rubbed his head and ears. His eyes kept drifting open, desperate not to fall asleep and let her out of his sight.  
  


Ichigo’s kind of stuck here, doesn’t know how to begin. For one, should he tell her about Grimmjow’s involvement — Rukia and Grimmjow don’t get along.

Mostly because, while Grimmjow won’t admit he’s Ichigo’s friend, he totally is, and is pretty much his only one at that. Grimmjow is also a viciously jealous person, and hates any of Ichigo’s other friends, most of all, Rukia. He’s tried to punch Rukia in the stomach before, that gives you an idea of how much animosity is between them. So Ichigo always tried not to mention him around Rukia, and keep them generally unaware of each other. What is she going to say when he tells her?...  
  


“The short version?” he finally sighs.

“Sure.”  
  


“I’m helping a friend, who happens to be an undercover cop.”

“I see,” Rukia said skeptically. “This is your _‘friend,’_ is it? And you won’t tell me who it is?”

“... No?”

“Then you have told me,” she muttered. “And you agreed to help him with something this crazy. Also — he’s a police?”

“I _know,”_ Ichigo groaned. “Isn’t that insane? That would’ve been at like, the last thing I would've guessed.”

“And he came to you with a favor.”  
  


Shifting uneasily, Ichigo explained, “Grimmjow is… He’s an undercover cop, and he’s doing a neko trafficking bust.” He felt uncomfortable saying it out loud, even though she’d already guessed who it was. “He asked if I could shelter Renji for a while until he can be sent to some kind of animal sanctuary.”

“So he’s been hanging out in your house this whole time?”

“Yeah basically,” Ichigo said after a moment holding his breath.  
  


“Are you a fucking idiot,” she deadpanned.  
  


“Rukia, c’mon!” he groaned.

“If you get caught—”  
  


“I don’t need you to tell me. I know what happens if I get caught. I’ve already moved past that,” Ichigo said, because despite wobbling a few times in the beginning, he’s dedicated to seeing this through. He’s going to help Renji get to safety.  
  


“Why didn’t you tell me about it,” she wondered at last.  
  


“Uhh, I didn’t want to get caught? That’s the whole point of it being a secret — also, how was I supposed to have known that you two knew each other?” If he had known, maybe he would have said something to her, but there’s no way he could’ve guessed.

The whole danger aspect of him risking going to jail, she got over that pretty quickly, thankfully — instead she asks, “What about Renji though. Has he been well?”  
  


“Yeah,” he muttered thoughtfully. “I’d say so.”

“He’s pretty special,” she murmurs, and they both look at him, lying on the floor, head next to her side. His ear flicks, eyes closed contentedly.  
  


“Yeah… He is.”  
  


Hand on top of Renji’s head, stroking tenderly along his cheek, Rukia said, “Soon you’ll be where you belong. At long last.” She pet his head.

Something welled up inside Ichigo at the bittersweet smile on her face, eyes heavy with sadness.  
  


“I’m glad he seems so happy. I’ve always wondered what happened to him.”

Ichigo bit his tongue, thinking of Renji’s file. “He hasn’t had a good life,” is all he told her.  
  


Renji’s dozing, but Rukia still stroked his head and told him softly, “Soon.” Ichigo swallowed hard and watched on. “This journey’s going to be scary, but once it’s over, you’ll be safe.”

Her hand traces his jaw, fond and wistful. “No one’s going to hurt you again, Renji. Not ever again.”  
  


They both look at him there, lying stretched out over the floor, peaceful and happy.

After a long time in silence, Ichigo wondered, “How did you pick his name?”  
  


Rukia stared at him for a time, a frown creasing her brow, like he's just done something odd. At last, she said slowly, “He told me his name.”  
  


Ichigo blinked back, lips parting.  


. . .  


Rukia stayed for a long time, unwilling to be separated. When she finally had to go home, they tell Renji she has to leave, try to explain it to him, but his face showed no understanding, only dread — betrayal, sadness.

He didn’t want to let her go, holding onto her and trying to draw her away from the door, touching her chest and then his, trying to make her understand that he didn’t want her to go, _stay here, you and me._

She shook her head, touching her hand to his cheek, and tried to extract from his grip. “Renji,” Ichigo tried, feeling like an outsider in this moment of heartbreak. “Renji, let go.”  
  


Renji did, slowly releasing his grip and watching as she slid out of it. His face is contorted in grief, his ears down, eyes wide — _why are you leaving again? Don’t go away, don’t leave, Rukia!_  
  


She waves, hugging him goodbye, taking her time with leaving, and at last closes the door.  
  


Renji sat at the door for a long time after she’d gone, butting his head at it and putting his hand on the wood, pacing unhappily in front of it. Ichigo tried to tell him to come away, but he wouldn’t. After many hours, he collapsed there in sadness, his whole body pressed against the door.  
  


_‘Are you going to visit again,’_ Ichigo texted her, both of them having known well enough not to have this conversation earlier in front of Renji, little teapots have big ears and all that.    

 _‘You know that I can’t.’_   Ichigo’s mouth widened grimly. He did. It’s why all of them had somehow known it was a last goodbye. It would have seemed cold, except they both know that it had to be this way. Renji was going away for good soon; it would clearly only make it harder to see her again and then be ripped away for the rest of his life. Today was cruel enough.  
  


_‘He’s torn up over it. You didn’t look much better. You gonna make it?’_  
  


Renji’s waiting for Rukia to come back, completely distraught. Ichigo doesn’t tell her that part. It’ll only hurt her more. It will only make this harder.

 _‘I got to say goodbye. It’s enough,’_ she replies.   _‘Tell me once he’s made it to safety.’_

 

_‘I will.’_


	22. Chapter 22

After Rukia’s visit, Renji is much more restless.  
  


At first Ichigo was thinking of it sort of like a dog who stays in one place after being abandoned by its owner, then eventually moves on — but Renji isn’t like a regular animal who will eventually forget an absence.

If he had remembered Rukia that clearly after over twenty years, there is no way he will ever forget her for the rest of his life. He will miss Rukia just as Ichigo misses his mother. It’s something that is always there, never goes away.

That said, when Renji comes away from the door, Ichigo can convince him to eat and bathe, but he is discontented, and instead of playing as he used to do, he sits at the window a lot more, looking out.

When he doesn’t do that, he’s needy, and paces the house like it’s the cage Ichigo had always known it was. He walks down the hallway and up, down to the front door, back to the end of the hallway, over to Ichigo —  
  


Renji tugged Ichigo’s arm. “No, Renji,” he said patiently.  
 

“Rukia,” Renji said, pestering him insistently. “Rukia.”  
 

“No, Rukia’s not coming,” Ichigo tried to tell him.  
 

“Rukia,” Renji pleaded, and it’s breaking his heart to have to do this — _Make her come back here, I want Rukia, please make her come to me—_

“We’ll get in trouble,” he weakly tried to explain. “It’ll raise suspicion. She has to stay away.”

  
“Rukia.”  
  


“No, Renji.”  Renji’s jaw slackened, and he turned away, gritting his teeth.  
  
  
He did his best to try and cheer Renji up in those times, tried to distract him, but it doesn’t really work. Renji won’t play, isn’t interested in any of his toys. He’s too downcast and moody. He carries that sweater around with him constantly, nuzzling it and snuggling with it on the floor, tail flicking glumly.

He’s lonely. It’s probably best that he be sent off soon. There’ll be too much going on for Renji to think about Rukia much — and in any case, Ichigo’s starting to become wary that Renji might actually resort to leaving the apartment to try and track her down.

He kept in contact with her on the phone, and at one point or another, Renji must have heard this, because Ichigo found him with the phone, fiddling with it. He watched as Renji put it to his ear.  “Rukia?” he tried tentatively, curious.

At that moment, Ichigo felt his heart swell and ache so violently that he thought he might burst, might weep. He walked up to him, at which Renji looked up in alarm, and set the phone down with all the guilt of someone who’s been caught doing something they know they’re not supposed to.

He took the phone away. He would let Renji talk to Rukia on the phone, really he would, but it seemed cruel to let him hear her voice when they couldn’t see each other again — almost like taunting him. He was already this cut up over it, it would only make things worse, and so Ichigo squared his shoulders, building himself up to scold Renji, something he rarely did, if ever.  
  


“Renji,” he said firmly. “Rukia’s not coming.” He watched as Renji’s eyes got big and wide, shoulders drooping, betrayal starting to build behind the sadness. “You’re not gonna’ see her again,” he growled, driving in the final nail.

Renji heaved for a moment or two, like he was about to lash out in anger, his nose twitching — but then he whipped around and stormed into his room, slamming the door. It’s the first time he’s done so since Ichigo let him out.

He leaves him alone after that. Renji didn’t come out for the rest of the night, and the door was still shut when he left in the morning for work.  
 

When he came home, he found Renji in the hallway, hair wet. Not an uncommon sight, Renji loves the water. He likes soaking in the bath, and probably means to comfort himself.

“Did you wash?” Ichigo came up to him, standing next to him. “Did you use soap this time? It looks like you did.”

Renji shook himself dry, hair whipping in his face. “Renji!” he complained. Renji looked like he was about to smile teasingly for a second, but then remembered he was upset, and quickly began to sulk, turning his face away.  
  


Ichigo sighed. “I know you miss her,” he murmured. “But she can’t come here. If anyone finds out you’re here, they’ll take you away. Bad people might get you,” he tried to explain. “She can’t come here again.”  
  


Renji seemed to finally swallow the pill, but then, with so much hope, _pleadingly,_ he touched Ichigo’s wrist to get his attention and then put his palm to his ear, like he’s using a phone. He understands it well enough to know that Ichigo can use it to talk to her — _Let me talk to her too, please—  please._  
  


“The phone…” Ichigo considered uncertainly. “Won’t that be hard?... To talk to her when you can’t see her again? Won’t that hurt?”  
 

Renji didn’t care, he begged and begged, wouldn't let it rest, and at last Ichigo felt he had to relent or else Renji might die right there of a broken heart.  
  


“What if I help you write her a message?” he suggested finally. Renji seemed very excited, lighting up and grabbing his arm— “What, right now?”  
 

 _Right now, right now,_ Renji urged, dragging him to his phone.  
 

He crowded next to Ichigo as he sat on the couch, composing a text message to Rukia. “What do you want me to say to her?” Renji tapped his chest excitedly, and Ichigo tried to interpret.

“It’s me, Renji,” he said as he typed it out. He showed it to Renji, who made a show of looking at it appraisingly even though he can't read a goddamn thing. He perked up, seeming pleased.   
  


Then he put his palm to his heart. “Rukia,” he said.

“Huh?”     That could mean any number of things — _I miss you, I love you —_ What does that mean?   
  


Renji looked frustrated for a second, mouth open, and Ichigo felt for him suddenly. Renji’s never had anything very complicated that he had to communicate to him that he couldn’t get it across through use of his hands or a single word — or at least, he’d assumed so. He’d assumed Renji’s thoughts were very simple and straight forward, but it was clear now that there were complex feelings he wanted to express.

It was obviously important to him now, that Ichigo understand him clearly. It had to be hard, to have so much to say and no way to tell him.  
  


He brought both palms to his chest, tapping with his fingertips, and then, one palm over his heart, he put the other hand over it, patting tenderly. He put his arms around himself and rocked, like he was hugging someone.  “Aw Renji,” Ichigo sighed.  
  


“I know you miss her.”  
  


Giving up on trying to put that much love into words, because he would inevitably fail to capture the minutiae of what Renji meant, Ichigo opened up the emoji board for him.

He showed it to him and let him pick out the stickers he wanted that matched the feelings he wanted to convey. Renji pecked at the screen studiously — he picked out a lot of flowers, and some bunnies. He pointed at the heart symbols and patted his chest.

“Yeah,” Ichigo confirmed. Renji picked the heart too.  
  


“Love Renji,” Ichigo typed, and sent it.  
  


Not too long after, Rukia sent one back, full of bunnies and hearts, and a sticker that showed two bunnies hugging. Ichigo showed it to Renji, who excitedly grinned. He held the phone, put it to his chest.  
  


    Ichigo let him keep it for a while.


	23. Chapter 23

After that, Renji is in a better mood, but he’s a little clingier. He’s been kind of annoying, actually.  


Case in point, that night Ichigo was reading in his room, and Renji must want some attention, because he’s loping around on all fours, circling the bed repeatedly. Ichigo’s not in the mood to entertain him, so he ignores him.

Renji put his head and arms up onto the bed and noses around, snuffling at the blankets, then wiggled, backing up — and to Ichigo’s chagrine, he put his butt in the air, grinning, his tail sticking up playfully.

He put his hand out, batting at Ichigo’s leg with his fingertips, nudging him. He’s trying to play. 

“No,” he says. “No playing, Renji.”  When he kept putting his arm up on the bed, Ichigo told him, “Get off my bed, you’re not allowed.”

Renji frowned, but didn’t move.

“Off the bed!” Ichigo swatted the blankets near Renji’s arm and Renji gets down, lying on the ground with his ears back, lips pursed pitifully — _play with me, boo hoo—_

Ichigo went back to reading, but Renji kept circling the bed, bumping at it insistently. “Renji, no playing tonight,” Ichigo repeated, and Renji stopped.

It was quiet for a few minutes. Ichigo flipped a page, and suddenly the book isn't in his handsanymore as Renji swiped it and promptly ran away.

“You little shit!” he shouted, chasing after him, and in his effort to get it back, he was goaded into wrestling.

They lay on the rug for a while afterwards, staring at the ceiling fan in companionable silence. Renji even closed his eyes, snoozing, tail repeatedly brushing Ichigo’s leg.

He allowed himself to feel a little comfort then. Maybe he’d been bitter and even a little jealous that Renji had shown such open attachment to Rukia — because Renji had been starting to really like him and then she had come and it had made him feel like an outsider almost.   
  
It's selfish to feel that way, he knows that, but maybe that feeling he'd dealt with ever since he can remember, the steeping gloom and boredom, this thing that wasn't quite sadness because sadness is supposed to hurt worse, maybe he can admit now that he'd felt really lonely.

He hasn't felt like that since Renji got here, and maybe that's why. Renji really likes Rukia, it’s true, but the two of them are still okay.

 

 _‘Me and you… we’re buddies too,’_ Ichigo thinks, closing his eyes.

 

. . .

 

“Let’s do some laundry,” Ichigo says while dinner is cooking in the oven. They go into the laundryroom together, and while Ichigo puts in a load of clothes, Renji stands next to him and strips, putting his own in too. He's unbothered now that he's used to the routine, and goes and lounges about naked in the front room while Ichigo puts the detergent in.

He put his phone up to his ear when it rang.

Ichigo was beginning to really resent these calls, because all Grimmjow does is lecture him and say shit that makes his gut twist up in knots. It's been even worse lately. Things must be getting more stressful on Grimmjow’s end because he’s even quicker to lose his temper when it seems things aren’t going to plan. Ichigo knows well enough that there's been much more difficulty in bringing this whole thing off than they'd anticipated. Renji was only supposed to be here for about a week or so, and it's coming up on two months or something like that. Something's gone wrong.

After a terse greeting, Grimmjow got straight to business, accusing: “Are you still letting it roam around your house and it hasn’t cut your throat yet?”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Ichigo grit out, because he's not in the mood to have this conversation _again.  
_

“How the fuck can you be sure. You _can’t_ be sure.”

“Aren't you supposed to be focused on other things? You said you could trust me to hold up my end of the plan, so would you quit all this bullshit please?" Ichigo snapped.  
  
"What I'm fucking concerned about is you getting too comfortable with an unhinged killing machine."

"He’s relaxed around me,” he said sharply, defensive about it. “He likes me.”

“Kurosaki.”

“He _does.”  
_

“You’re losing it, dude!” Grimmjow hollered.

Ichigo argued back, “He wasn’t happy being cooped up in there! If I made him go back now, he wouldn’t forgive me!”

“Who the _fuck_ cares?!”

“That’s… really heartless, Grimm.”

Grimmjow sighed suddenly, as if to pull himself together. “Ichigo, you’re being misled by its appearance. You’re forgetting this thing isn’t a human. You shouldn’t be treating it like one. It’s _not — human,_ ” he kept saying, like Ichigo isn’t getting it and once he accepts that fact, he’ll stop bringing emotion into the equation.

“That doesn’t mean he’s garbage,” Ichigo growled. “He has feelings!”

“Animals don’t fucking have human emotions, Ichigo. They don’t feel things the way you and I do,” Grimmjow shut him down. “People hate to be told this because the truth hurts, but pets _don’t love their owners back.”_

And he’s right, Ichigo doesn’t want to be told that, he resents being forced to listen to it, doesn’t want to believe it’s true — “Maybe they feel _happy,_ maybe they’re loyal, but it doesn’t _love_ you. An animal brain isn’t built the same as a human’s, and it can’t feel love, not the way a human does. They physically _can’t_ feel what you feel.”

“You’re right,” Ichigo said, because he is, but none of that matters, because — “But he’s not just some animal, Grimmjow. He’s a person with feelings.”

“It’s not a fucking person. Neko aren’t people. Pets aren’t people and neither are neko,” Grimmjow railroads him, loud and insistent, unwilling to listen to anything else.

But Ichigo knows it can’t be true. Renji recognizes himself as an individual, he can indicate himself through signing — _me —_ he recognizes himself in the mirror, and has a very clear sense of self and what separates him from others. That’s all personhood is, really.

“Grimmjow—”

He growled suddenly, dark and demanding, “Look, you are not pulling this fucking bullshit with me now. I have worked too hard over this, breaking my fucking brain trying to find a way to finish this, tracking down every fucking contact I have on the other side — you've cracked if you think I'm gonna' let you pull this  _bullshit_ on me now. I know you’re a lonely sack of shit, but this is really not the time for you to have a goddamn personal crisis. We have a job to do.”

Ichigo set his jaw, because Grimmjow is always harsh, it’s something that comes hand in hand with being his friend and Ichigo is used to it, but it still makes him harden his heart, toughen up against the abuse, because it was the only way not to let it hurt him. It’s the only way he can keep himself from asking the question that haunts him time after time — _‘Do you even care what happens to him? Or is this just a job to you?’_  
  


“Where are you even sending him?” Ichigo asked, voice steady. “Some zoo?”  
  


“That’s where it belongs — with others,” he returned, calmer, resigned about it. “Where it can’t be used anymore. Where no one will hurt it again.” There’s something there beneath his gruff tone that is fragile, some sort of investment in seeing this through that is deeply personal.

He does care, in some way. Ichigo doesn’t know what Grimmjow’s reasons are, but he’s sure he has them. He remembered the way he’d evaded explaining himself too much in the beginning, _what’s in it for you? —_ He cares, but he doesn’t see Renji as a person with wants and needs and a personality, but an animal that had been abused that needs to be moved to a new environment to recover.

Ichigo doesn’t know anymore if that’s what’s best — he can easily imagine Renji being moved and then going back into his shell, going back to growling and hissing, afraid of humans, making no effort to communicate his thoughts in a coherent way. He’ll be the animal everyone believes he is, because there's no point doing anything else.

“I’ve been thinking. I don’t know if this is right,” Ichigo mumbled, not knowing how to broach the subject. “The place he’s going… It’s just gonna’ be a bigger cage, isn’t it — but it’s still a cage.”

“The fuck do you want me to say? That’s our best option at this point.”

“He shouldn’t have to go there. He can learn to find a place in the world — it’d take a while, but he’s smart enough that I think he could.” Grimmjow is silent for some reason, maybe in disbelief.

“He’d waste his life there, stuck in a big cell until he’s old,” Ichigo said passionately, and he might not have known what he believed before now, but when it comes out, he felt wholeheartedly that it was true. “Renji deserves more than that. He ought to have a choice like anyone else. Isn't there a way for him to find a goverment-sponsored caretaker? If we found him a guardian, he wouldn't have to leave the country. He could integrate, I know it.”  
  


Once Ichigo paused, voice dangerously soft, Grimmjow uttered, “What did you just say?”  
  


“He should be able to stay if he wants to. He can think for himself and he should be able to choose what happens to him,” Ichigo repeated. “Why shouldn't he get to—”  
  


“No,” Grimmjow accused, “You named it.”  
  


Ice plunged through his veins. He didn’t know what to say in that moment, frozen at his slip-up, and listened as Grimmjow muttered _‘christ,’_ and in his most serious voice, told him, “Kurosaki, didn’t anyone ever teach you, once you _fucking name it,_ you get attached to it.”

 _‘He told me his name,’_ Ichigo thinks, but he bites his tongue.

Seeming to be making a conscious effort not to blow his stack and yell at him, Grimmjow was silent for a very long time.

“It can’t stay with you,” he says, even though Ichigo had never suggested that. He knows that, he knows Renji can’t stay forever, never considered it, but the idea of never seeing him again — it really hurts.

Even if Renji’s going to a better place, it hurts.

“I know that!” he blurted, hanging his head over the open washer. “I know.”

“I know you think you’re being nice to it — but whatever you _think_ you’re doing, in the long run you're just making it uppity. It’ll be more difficult for it to adjust. If you think you can teach it enough tricks that it can play human, whatever. Maybe you can and maybe you can't, but none of that matters. That’s not the world we live in. There’s nowhere for it to go; nowhere where it won’t be exploited and taken advantage of. If it stays here, it'll just keep getting  _abused.”_

Ichigo grit his teeth, eyes shut as Grimmjow told him, “Maybe it sucks, but that’s how things stand. The best we have for it right now is the sanctuary.”

“Okay,” he breathed. “Okay I get it.”

“Don’t fuck this up for him.” Grimmjow hangs up.

Ichigo took the clothes out, transferring them to the dryer. Renji eagerly put them on the moment they were done.

He’s taught Renji a lot of things, useful skills Ichigo has taken so for granted, known since childhood: how to tie a knot, how to whistle, how to use a nail clipper. He doesn’t know when Renji will use them again, considering the rest of his life is going to be spent out in the wilderness, but he feels he deserves to learn those lessons.

The one thing he can’t bring himself to try is the most important, the thing he feels separates them the most. He can’t teach Renji to read, and it pains him, because he’s seen Renji trying fruitlessly to copy him in this as he does everything else, opening a book and squinting at it. Ichigo had read out loud to him once, and even though Renji’s eyes had glazed over and he didn’t seem to understand the concept of a story, he’d listened for a very long time, sitting at Ichigo’s shoulder and watching as his finger followed the words as he read them.

He’d come away with the understanding that the marks on the page have meaning, and now he sometimes would take a book to Ichigo and point at the page, _tell me what this is_ — urging him to read it. He swipes books into his own room and Ichigo peeks in there at him sometimes, watching Renji stare at the page, push his face against it like he can understand if he focuses hard enough.  
  


Ichigo knows that if he tried to help Renji learn to read, he’d be able to get the hang of it — and maybe that’s why he can’t do it.  
  


Because he sees himself in Renji, he watches the way he pushes against his own personal boundaries more and more with each passing day, _let me be like you, I can do everything you do if you let me_ — Renji loves being with him, loves to follow him around and content himself interacting with him. Ichigo’s seen the way he’s opened up using the skills he’d learned, seen the way his self-esteem has blossomed, how capable he feels now that he has that degree of autonomy.

He’s seen the way he stands in front of the mirror and smiles at himself after he’s gotten ready in the morning — like he can see himself for the first time and like the person there, recognize his own face and its similarity to Ichigo’s, its human characteristics. _I am a man. I’m like you._

How can Ichigo tell him after all of this, _‘You’re not like me. You’re not a human, you don’t have dignity — you’re not a person.’_    The words ring bitterly in his ears, sit in his gut like a stone that won’t digest.

But maybe Grimmjow’s right and it’s best not to get Renji’s hopes up. The people at the sanctuary, they won’t treat Renji like a human being, they won’t talk to him, most likely won’t interact with him at all other than occasionally shooting him with tranquilizers to complete a medical check. Grimmjow’s described it as a stretch of wilderness that he’ll be released into, like a wildlife preserve or national park. He’ll be tagged and tracked to monitor his health and progress; wild boars and deer will be occasionally put into the enclosure to wander until Renji can find and hunt them.

He’ll be by himself in that great space. Tigers live alone.  
  


_‘Don’t fuck this up for him.’_   
  


Maybe he was callous about it, but Grimmjow did care about this case, about Renji’s welfare, because the way Ichigo was acting with Renji, the way they talked, it wasn’t preparing Renji for the way the rest of his life would be, even if that sucked — Grimmjow was just trying to remind him of that.

More than that, for all Ichigo had slipped up and revealed to Grimmjow that he called Renji by his name and thought of him as an individual with thoughts and feelings that were worth as much consideration as his own, Grimmjow had had a slip-up of his own.  
  


It’s the first time he’s heard Grimmjow call Renji anything other than ‘it.’


	24. Chapter 24

Ichigo woke to a heavy banging at the front door.

Startled from sleep, he snorted and tossed about, wiping his eyes, and when they cleared, he saw that Renji was already awake.

They’d been taking an afternoon nap. Renji’s taken to sleeping on the floor in his bedroom, which Ichigo has let him get away with because he knew their time would be up soon. It was probably selfish to take advantage of the show of affection, but he wants to be close to Renji too. It won't be long now before Renji goes to his new home, so they ought to make the most of things.

Ichigo sat up and saw Renji there at the side of the bed, anxiously pulling the covers by Ichigo's feet to try and roue him.

He was bristling, hair standing on end in agitation, and for the first time in ages, he’s showing his teeth a little, hissing in a defensive gesture. He’s afraid of whoever is outside, probably having picked up a bad smell. Ichigo wondered why he hadn’t gone away to hide like usual.

“It’s okay,” he tells him, standing and putting on a shirt. “Stay here, it’s okay. I’ll be right back.” Leaving Renji there in his room, Ichigo yawned and walked out, opening the front door.

It’s Grimmjow, who barges in immediately, loud and obnoxious and demanding as usual. He’d come alone, so it’s obviously not time for Renji to go, but he’s still in a rage, hand itching at his side. 

“Where is it,” he said harshly, surveying Ichigo’s hall.

“What are you doing?”

 _“Where is it!”_ he shouts, urgent.

“Grimmjow, _shut up,”_ Ichigo said firmly, wide-awake in an instant and _so_  not in the mood for this. “Why the fuck are you here?”

Grimmjow shifted a little uncomfortably then. “Had to come check on you,” he blustered — read: _I was worried._  

“You were acting so fucking weird last night that I thought you might do something stupid!”    _I was_ _really_ _worried._

“Like _what?”_ Ichigo wondered after an incredulous moment. Was this about all the stuff he'd said about Renji? What kind of drastic action could he possibly take? It’s not like there was anywhere he could go with Renji, anywhere he could hide him. They can’t just run away…

“I dunno’, you’re a dumb shit, I had to check and make sure!”

“Everything’s under control.”

He kept his voice level no matter Grimmjow’s level of agitation, because his shouting was probably really spooking Renji back there, and Ichigo didn’t want to sound as though he were upset too, or in any way bothered by Grimmjow. He didn’t want Renji to be scared. It's not like Grimmjow's a real threat to either of them.

Grimmjow groans long and loud, letting it build into a frustrated scream, pulling at his hair. Ichigo raised an eyebrow.

“Why do you have to make things so goddamn difficult.” Grimmjow’s temper was going down a bit, but when Ichigo just wordlessly purses his lips and gives him a sardonic look, Grimmjow reaches out and shoves him roughly, and of course, that was the moment Renji chose to come out.

Ichigo's dealt with Renji when he's worked up before, he's seen him scared and confused, violent with defensive rage, but he's never seen him this vicious.

It hadn't occurred to him that Grimmjow might have walked into his house packing heat, but Ichigo puts it together when he grabs at the side of his belt when Renji comes charging down the hall towards them. Ichigo doesn’t have time to react other than bracing himself, too surprised in that moment to do anything else.

He thought for sure Renji was about to lunge for Grimmjow from the way he'd bolted out here, but he skidded to a stop next to Ichigo. He hissed and spat, a deep warning growl coming from his splayed jaws — _‘Go away, stay away from us, I’ll hurt you—’_

"Stop! _Stop!"_ he hollers the second his brain catches up with that belt-grabbing motion, eyes like plates, "Grimmjow, no! Why the hell do you have that! Put that thing _away!"_

Screaming his head off probably isn't the best thing to do to deescalate or calm either of them down but what the fuck is Ichigo supposed to do when there's a fucking gun in his house— 

Grimmjow halts, hand on his back pocket. Honestly, Ichigo's surprised Grimmjow hadn't shot Renji the second he'd burst out here. Anybody else would make the assumption that Renji was about to kill them. "Grimmjow, don't!"

Ichigo's pretty sure the only reason Renji hasn't gone for Grimmjow's neck and Grimmjow hasn't drawn his gun is because he's standing between them like a double-sided shield.

“What the _fuck,”_ Grimmjow barked, “You put it in fucking _clothes?”_ and pretty much completely blew his stack — and while he didn't seem much concerned about getting hurt, he doesn't keep a handle on his temper at all. Yelling wasn’t the right course of action, because Renji only grew more agitated, and growled back, letting rip an honest to god _roar._

“Renji— Renji,” Ichigo tried, but Renji’s only response was to get between them and retreat, keeping Ichigo behind him, arms out — _‘Get away, don’t you touch him, I won’t let you hurt us—’_ He kept his eyes on Grimmjow, yowling at him, his body heaving with aggression and rage, and he must be pretty scared, because he keeps shrinking like he wants to crouch and cower, but he doesn’t stop showing Grimmjow his teeth, puffing himself up threateningly.

If Grimmjow's afraid, he doesn't show it on his face, but Ichigo can see the pulse beating in his neck, the sweat beading on his forehead. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said quickly, facing Renji to show him that he could turn his back to Grimmjow. “Grimmjow’s fine,” he says. “He’s my buddy — like you. We were just messing around.”

Maybe it’s because Renji remembers him somehow, or because he just doesn't like a strange man coming into the house — even if he stopped looking like he was about to lunge at any moment, Renji kept looming near Ichigo, growling like he was establishing dominance over him, showing Grimmjow he is not welcome and is not trusted, _keep away from us—_  He’s scared of Grimmjow but he’s trying to _protect_ Ichigo from him, keeping his body between them.

“You little bastard,” Grimmjow growled, seeming to catch on to what he was doing.

“Renji, leave him alone,” Ichigo muttered when Renji growled again, placing a hand on Renji’s shoulder and tugging on him. Renji lurked nearby, ears back, glaring at Grimmjow distrustfully, but he put his fangs away.

Grimmjow watched as Renji obeyed. He whistled lowly. “You’ve been living with this thing?”

“It’s your own fault,” Ichigo scoffed, and okay, maybe he’s bragging a tiny bit. “He’s never like that with me.”

“Well the fuck did I do?” he hollered indignantly.

Ichigo looked to Renji for an answer, but he just flashed his teeth angrily, not doing much else.

“He doesn’t like you I guess,” Ichigo reported. Grimmjow sputtered, enraged.

Renji bared his teeth at Grimmjow again, growling and placing himself between them, like _Grimmjow’s_ the dangerous animal that he had to protect Ichigo from — which just about made Grimmjow blow a gasket.

“Renji, he’s not gonna’ hurt us,” Ichigo snorted, because he’s getting a little fed up with them going back and forth like this, at each other’s throats.

“Oh yes I am!”

“No he’s not,” Ichigo repeated, rolling his eyes. “This is the guy who’s gonna’ get you to freedom.”

At that, Renji’s ears go back and he turned to look at Ichigo in surprise. He pointed over his shoulder at Grimmjow a little. “Yep,” Ichigo deadpanned. Bristling, Renji looked very dubious. Grimmjow stared incredulously.

They sat in the living room. Well, Ichigo sits. Renji crouches by his side, glaring hatefully at Grimmjow, his tail flicking, still occasionally flashing his teeth to remind him, _don’t fuck with me, I don’t trust you, you stay over there—_  
  
Grimmjow stands with his arms crossed, staring at the two of them in something like horrified bewilderment.

“It won’t be much longer now,” he said finally. “It’s been in one place for too long. We’ve got to get ‘im moved soon.” Ichigo shifted a little, trying not to let on that he was downcast on this point.   

“But it’ll like its new place,” Grimmjow muttered tersely. “Lot of space. Lotta’ food.”

“What do you think, Renji?” Ichigo hummed, glancing over. Renji scowled, still glaring two holes into Grimmjow’s head.

“Would you quit doing that?” Grimmjow grumbled, and it took a second for Ichigo to realize that was aimed at  _him,_ not Renji _._ “He can’t even talk, so what’s the fucking point...”

“He can,” Ichigo said.

Sarcastic, clearly not believing him, Grimmjow snorted derisively, “Yeah, what’s he say.”

“Fuck you,” Renji said very clearly, unmistakable, and Ichigo has no idea where he learned _that._

 _“The fuck did you say?”_ Grimmjow barked, but Renji pretended not to understand, playing dumb, which infuriated Grimmjow further.

“Leave him alone,” Ichigo said, meaning it for both of them.

it's around dinner time and Ichigo's getting hungry, so when Grimmjow decides not to just leave, he sees no reason not to go about his business.

Not paying any mind to the glaring happening behind him, Ichigo called, “Can I make you something?”

“No,” Grimmjow said, and the two of them continue their stare-down, but generally get along until he’s finished cooking.

Ichigo and Renji sit at the table together, and Grimmjow pulled up the stool. Those two stay as far apart as possible, and both end up crowding Ichigo, which is annoying, but oh well.

Grimmjow’s clearly uncomfortable with Renji, refusing to talk to him directly, and Renji keeps a suspicious eye on Grimmjow all the time he’s eating. At least he got to eat in peace and quiet.

Ichigo sighed after he’d gotten about halfway through.  “You’re right about one thing,” he said. “He doesn’t make a good pet.”  
  
Renji’s head lifts, and he frowns, shoulders dropping minutely — _I don’t?  
_

“You’re a way better friend than a pet,” Ichigo told him. Renji’s tail goes up.

He shrugged. “I can see why… Y’know. When you tried to make an offer, it was turned down. Why would they want to get rid of Renji — he’s awesome.” He turns to Renji. “You’re awesome,” he tells him. Renji smiles, big and beaming, tail waving merrily.

“Even if you’re annoying sometimes.” His grin turns shiteating.

Grimmjow stared, eyes flicking between them, uncomfortable. “Well obviously it’s not this fucking well-behaved for the owner,” he muttered.

“Who was it anyways?” Ichigo wondered, because he’d never gotten that far in his reading.

“Hm?” Grimmjow pretended, not looking at him, suddenly seeming chastened.

“Whose pet was he?” Ichigo repeated, a little more suspicious.

“You don’t wanna’ know.” Grimmjow never says that, so when he does, he _really_ doesn’t want to know, which means this is seriously bad.

“Grimmjow, whose pet was he?” he asked apprehensively.

Grimmjow gave him a long look, and then relented. “... CEO of Kuchiki Enterprise.” Curling his lip, he muttered, “Bastard.”

For a second, everything is a numb buzz. Ichigo sat back in surprise, gaping. “What?” he heard himself breathe.

 _“Kuchiki Byakuya,”_ Grimmjow repeats viciously, because he knows Ichigo knows, he knows what this means and how _bad_ this is, and it’s almost sweet, the way he’d wanted to spare him that knowledge, not tell him, so he wouldn’t have to make a hard decision—

“Byakuya,” Ichigo said, dumbstruck. “...”

Renji seemed to know this name because his eyes grew wide, and he swallowed slowly, lowering his chopsticks. His ears go flat against his head and his breath became forced — like he thinks he has to go back, like they’re going to take him back there. What on earth had happened during his time as Byakuya’s pet that just hearing his name could provoke such dread?

Ichigo patted his shoulder soothingly to try and comfort him, but his own mind was racing with horror. _Byakuya?  
_

_‘He’s the one who owned Renji? Who kept him locked up for over five years? In his mansion, or...? ... But…’  
_

Ichigo just can’t comprehend it. Byakuya wasn’t a bad guy — he never would’ve guessed he was that kind of man, to buy a neko. He was a snob, rich as Croesus, aloof and cold to Rukia, but not a bad person.  


_This?_ — was _bad._  


It’s not like Byakuya doesn’t know Ichigo. It’s not inconceivable that he might figure out where Renji is located. It made sense now why Rukia has said her brother was in a worse mood than normal — having an extremely valuable and illegal commodity stolen and missing for weeks on end was probably high on the list of a rich man’s concerns. He was probably searching for Renji night and day with all of his resources.

Which made this all a whole lot more complicated and dangerous, knowing they could be caught at any time — but never mind Byakuya, what is he going to do about Rukia? That’s an even worse, more personal, issue.

He has to contact her, he has to tell Rukia that he can't tell Byakuya about Renji, can't so much as _mention_ it, otherwise Renji would be in danger. But how is he going to do that without also telling her that Byakuya's the one who'd had Renji locked up in the first place.  


“This is bad,” Ichigo said aloud, bleak and pale.  


“Uh, _yah,”_ Grimmjow scoffed, then groaned into his palm. “You get it now?”

“What’s going to happen when you guys bust him,” Ichigo mumbled, the cycle of his thoughts growing darker and darker, this is going to end in tears one way or another.

“We’re taking him down,” Grimmjow said, hard and sharp. “I don’t care about your friend’s feelings. He's going to fucking jail.”

Ichigo set his jaw, because he knows that’s how things have to be. They can’t just turn a blind eye to Byakuya’s wrongs just because it’d be upsetting to a woman who idolizes him.

Rukia’s going to be heartbroken — in any number of ways. Her big brother in jail, and then, the final blow, finding out that Byakuya, the man who had taken her in, had imprisoned her childhood friend, used him as a toy like some _monster_ — he didn’t know if she could bear it.

Staring stupidly, Ichigo blurted, “How am I gonna’ tell her…”

He must look really wrecked over it, because Grimmjow shifted uncomfortably and at last, for probably the first time since he’s known him, he said, “I’m sorry…” He cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in this,” Grimmjow apologized.    _I didn’t know it would hurt you this bad and I’m sorry._

“I thought you’d be the person they’d least suspect, because you know them personally, but maybe expecting you not to be affected was... shitty.”   _Are you okay?..._

Ichigo stared silently, mouth drawn in a bleak line. How is he going to tell her? _He can’t —_ He doesn't know how he can tell her, but how can he  _not_ tell her? What’s she going to say? if she finds out later on that he knew it was Byakuya?   He _has_ to—    She’s his best friend, he doesn’t want to cause her that kind of pain, but it’s inevitable.

“Just… keep it occupied for a couple more weeks,” Grimmjow said, shooting a wary glance from Ichigo to Renji. “Maybe less. It’ll be over soon.”  


And he leaves.  


Renji watches him go. A moment later, he stands, walks to the front door, and unzips like he’s about to—  
  
  
_“Renji!”_ Ichigo shouts, grabbing him by the back of his shirt hurriedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you already guessed it - it was probably p obvious from the tabs. Byakuya, how could you!!!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for your patience, here's 2 chaps.

Ichigo lays on the couch, miserable, arm over his eyes. He shifts uncomfortably. Renji is splayed on the floor in the kitchen, shirt pulled up so he can enjoy the cool tiles on his stomach while he colors.

He’s not used to having a roommate. It’s nice actually, and weird, to have a sudden _absence_ of the loneliness that’s dominated his life for over a decade, having someone who is always there. It also means he hasn’t been able to get a moment of privacy in weeks.

Honestly, he doesn’t know how he’s never caught _Renji_ doing anything like that, y’know, humping the couch or something or rutting on a pillow in his room. He’s been wondering about that for a while. He’d figured that by now he would’ve come across him stimulating himself at least once or twice, Renji’s a healthy adult, he’s a male animal, and he was never _clipped_ or anything, so he should have the libido of any other tomcat, but Ichigo hasn’t seen him show any sign of being frustrated.

Now that Ichigo thinks about it, that’s probably to blame for some of Renji’s purported aggression against his handlers in the past. Not being able to blow off that steam had to get such a big animal really worked up. Supposedly tigers only go into heat when they have a mate, but Renji’s not just a tiger, he’s visibly human too, and he had to be troubled by that daily urge. He must be able to jerk it, because Ichigo doesn’t know when Renji would ever have the opportunity to meet a girl tiger, so…

Well, Renji’s smart, and Ichigo knew from the way he preferred wearing clothes to being naked that Renji has a sense of modesty. He probably has enough self-awareness to go in private to work off his steam. If he does, Ichigo’s never noticed.

Ichigo squirms a little more. Maybe if he’s quiet enough, he can close himself in the toilet. No… Renji’ll be sure to hear whatever he’s doing any time of the day. He’s got those sensitive ears.

 _‘Ugh.’_  Ichigo squirms and wriggles in discomfort.

Renji lifted his head suddenly, nose twitching. Ichigo eyes him, thinking at first that he can smell the burger he put in the fridge earlier, but Renji’s head turns to _him_ suddenly. Nose lifted, he crawls straight over to him, following whatever he smells, and then presses his face into the crook of Ichigo’s neck, taking sniffs in rapid succession.

It tickles, and also, _rude,_ so Ichigo sat up, giving him a weird look and scooting away from him. “What’re you doing?” he muttered, not really in the mood to indulge Renji’s habit of smelling things at seemingly random moments. He doesn’t really want to be in close contact with anyone right now — mostly just wants a shower.

Renji doesn’t get the hint to leave him alone, and instead makes that pleased chuffing noise, ears perking. He shakes himself, eyes bright with excitement, and then he rubbed his cheek against Ichigo’s shoulder all of a sudden. He started rubbing all over him, really, sort of like how he’d done to Rukia when she’d come, except it’s more vigorous. He dug his head into Ichigo’s side and then rolled it, rubbing his face on him — and he kept doing that short stupid purr. He purred and purred almost nonstop.

Ichigo presses Renji away, the big doofus, because even though he usually likes it when Renji wants to be pet, he’s not interested right now. “No. Renji, no,” he scolds, pulling his legs up defensively.

Renji won’t relent. He tries to worm his face in Ichigo’s armpit, then tries at his hip, like he wants to nose towards the front of his pants, but Ichigo hurriedly puts the heel of his hand on Renji’s forehead, shoving him back and clamping his legs closed tighter. “Whoa, hey! Personal space!”

That’s one thing. Since Renji had opened up to him, he’s got no concept of social boundaries. Ichigo usually lets him do as he likes, because he’s pleased that Renji is secure with him, but Ichigo doesn’t want Renji to have any part of this uncomfortable moment.

On some level he realizes that Renji must be able to smell it, that’s probably why he’s acting this way, and it freaks Ichigo out — so he doesn’t think on it much, won’t let his mind land on that thought.

Renji doesn’t give up, continues snuggling on him. He licks Ichigo’s ear affectionately, face close to the side of his neck. “Hey, stop it,” Ichigo laughs, and Renji nuzzles him, tail up.

“Go’wan, you scamp,” he shooes him, standing up. Renji looked a little bit disappointed, but Ichigo made his retreat before it could get worse.

   Time to get in the shower — _now._  
  


 

A few weeks back, Ichigo got something fun for them to do together to keep Renji busy: a butterfly kit — an easy, low-maintenance pet for Renji to care for by himself.

Renji had eagerly set up the kit and watched the caterpillars as they slowly changed, first growing fat and then hanging themselves on the little paper disc attached to the roof of the net. Ichigo told him that when they hatched from their shells again, butterflies would come out, so Renji checked them daily, impatient.

When Ichigo got out of the shower, much relieved, Renji came to him right away and took his arm. He dragged him roughly, hurriedly towing him to get him to come look, and fucker’s strong, so Ichigo has to come.

A butterfly has burst from its chrysalis, orange and brown, crumpled and wet. Renji shook him by the arm, excited. He points — _look, look! —_ and put his hand to the net in wonder. It trembled minutely.

Renji must want to touch it, because he keeps putting his hands up to the white cloth barrier, gets his face close and watches in amazement, smiling as the butterfly’s wings flap and flutter.

“When its wings dry, you can hold it,” Ichigo tells him. Renji looks up at him, staring, slackjawed, as if he hadn’t realized he’d really get to do that, that he _could —_ he jittered with anticipation, humming with nervous energy to the point that Ichigo wondered if he’d end up crushing it in his excitement.

Ichigo unzipped the little door and carefully gathered it in his hand, bringing it out to show Renji. “Hold out your hands flat like a plate,” he says, waiting until Renji has them arranged to satisfaction.

“Gentle,” he tells him, “Really, really gentle.”

Ichigo transferred it to Renji’s hand, the fragile little thing, wings winking open and shut, still slightly too damp to fly. Renji looks down at it where it stands on his palms, keeping himself motionless, even holding his breath for a time.

He’s shaking slightly, cupping it in his hands. He gazed at the butterfly, and the expression of wonder on his face, Ichigo didn’t know if he’d felt such simple joy since he was a very small child.

He _is_ gentle, seeming to grasp how fragile it was, that even touching its wings would destroy this beautiful tiny thing.

Ichigo’s heart was beating fast for some reason, sitting across from him on the floor as Renji held it there between them. Renji looked up into his face, meeting the gaze of his golden-orange eyes with his own, and the look of awed amazement remains.  
  


The butterfly flutters its wings between them.

   
  
  


    Ichigo swallowed. He stood up and walked to the window, sliding it open.

 

. . .

 

When he wakes up, it’s still dark.

He picks his head up from the pillow and sees that Renji’s there, peering over the edge of the mattress, pushed up against the side of his bed. Two orbs glow at him through the blackness.

“What,” he whispered.

Renji tentatively put his hand on the bed.

It was usual for him to be active at night, but it didn’t look like he was trying to play. It seemed like...

“Okay,” Ichigo breathed. Something swelled up inside him, hot and tight. Renji climbed up after a moment, making himself fit in that small space at the end of the bed. He settled there with his head by Ichigo’s feet, splayed out with his eyes sweetly closed, content to lie next to him.

Ichigo laid back down to sleep, and ached.

He hasn’t acknowledged this feeling until now, hasn’t given it a name or much thought at all, because if he did, he’d have to admit it was there.

A more sensible person would rule that out entirely because of how wrong it was — it should be like taking advantage of one’s pet, or of a child even; something _innocent._

But Renji isn’t an animal. He’s more than that. He’s smart, he can learn, he knows how to think. He can do everything Ichigo can do.  
  


   He can talk and feel — he knows how to love.  
  


Which is why this hurts, because that’s exactly why Renji has to leave. Never mind what Ichigo feels, never mind that the realization of that kind of thing should be beautiful. All of it aches, throbs, unbearable. He's a heart ready to break — because he knows it must. There is nowhere for those feelings to go, a butterfly in a jar, fluttering, and waiting to die. 

It was always going to be this way. He knew the first day they met that they weren't going to know each other long. It always had to be like this.

The potential there for something between them, Ichigo has to keep that pushed down too far to reach or see, because even though they could blossom in a better world, they don’t live in a better world. The two of them, they could never be together in peace — Grimmjow’s right. This is the best option they have right now. Renji has to go. 

Because if he's the same as Ichigo, then he doesn't deserve this shitty life he's living. He has the body of an animal, but his heart and brain, those are human, and he shouldn't have to live his life in a cage.  
  


He deserves to fly free.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok ready for me to rip your heart out?

In the morning, the two of them eat breakfast together, and everything is different somehow.

Renji smiles at him, his eyes are soft, and he lingers at his side. When Ichigo sits on the sofa, Renji settles next to him. When Ichigo reads, Renji lays down at his side, head against his leg — and everything he felt in Renji’s glowing gaze last night, all of it is as real in the daylight as it had been in the crystal blackness.

So he grits his teeth and lays his hand atop Renji’s head. Renji closed his eyes, unflinching, and Ichigo stroked his face. This was never going to last. It was always going to be like this. He tries to remind himself that he'd known that from the beginning. 

Grimmjow called again later. Ichigo picked up, prepared to say that things are still going very well, nothing to report, but Grimmjow speaks first.

“They found a safe house.”

Ichigo’s mouth felt dry. “What?” he heard himself say.

Grimmjow doesn’t gloat about it, doesn’t sound gleeful or smug, as if knowing that Ichigo must be hurt by this. Resigned, he tells him, “We’ll be there to pick him up tomorrow.”

Ichigo doesn’t know if he feels anything in that moment, just stands there and breathes, staring forward. He knew that the time would come eventually, but…  
  


    “Tranq him before we get there.”

 

. . .

  


Ichigo has never been set with a harder task — he’s never more not wanted to do something that he knows he _must_ do.

With a heavy heart, Ichigo took the case in the back where Renji wouldn’t see him. He didn’t want to upset him, didn’t want him to be scared in the end. Ichigo loaded the gun, inserting the dart and cocking it. He hid it then, just out of reach, because he’s not ready to do it now.  
  


He will. He knows he has to. Just not yet.  
  


Ichigo has to tell him. He knows he does. It's the last time they're ever going to see each other. After today, Renji is going to his new home. He has to tell him. Ichigo prepared himself, taking a breath, and then walked back out into the front.

Renji is cheery, letting each butterfly go as the last of them hatch, carefully taking them out just as he'd been shown, and bringing them to the window, waiting for them to fly away.

He smiled when Ichigo came up to him, hair blowing in the wind, face lit up in the sunbeam through the windowpane, and Ichigo can’t do it.

He can’t do it during dinner, he can’t tell him in the evening — he strings it out, one more happy day, one more day before it’s all gone.

At last, they’re in the dark together. Renji has come to him again that night, curled up next to him, head resting on his legs.

He lay awake for a long time thinking, and it already hurts, his heart quivering and suffocating as he readies for the pain the morning would bring.  
  


 _‘Renji’s gonna’ be so scared.’_ That’s the thought that troubles him the most.   
  


Renji won’t know what’s happening. He’ll be in a strange place all by himself. Ichigo could explain it to him, he could try, could tell him that this is their last day together and now he’s going somewhere new, but Renji will be scared. When the men come to take him away, he’ll be frightened — that’s why he has to tranq him, so he’ll sleep through the worst of it.

But the thought of him waking up in an unfamiliar place, back in a box, rattling around in the back of a truck, alone and afraid, wondering where he is, where _Ichigo_ is — it rips him up. It tears him apart, the thought of Renji like that, terrified, _anguished,_ maybe even wondering if Ichigo hadn't wanted him anymore, if he'd given him back. 

Renji shuffled around a little, wide awake, seeming to sense that Ichigo couldn’t sleep either. He picked his head up, and Ichigo sat up too. Renji smiles in the dark, picking himself up to kneel across from him. Ichigo can’t stop his own smile, but it hurts, aches in his chest and makes his throat feel tight.  
  


“I never expected to meet a neko,” he finally said, quiet, not wanting to break the stillness.  
 

Renji smiled, it’s that same soft thing from this morning, eyes glowing with warmth and tenderness.  
  


“I never thought I’d get to be friends with somebody like you,” Ichigo said. “But we have been friends.” He swallowed, faltering. “... Haven’t we?”  
  


Renji’s smile faded as he looked into Ichigo’s face for a long time. It was so dark that Ichigo didn’t realize for a few seconds that Renji was slowly, slowly raising his hands, like he was considering every movement carefully, waiting for Ichigo to react, to pull away.

He doesn’t.

Renji put his hands up to the sides of Ichigo’s head, cupping it as though to block him from seeing to either side, fingers framing his hair. He’s loving, and so gentle, like he thinks Ichigo’s fragile.

Ichigo held his breath, gazing back at him. Renji slowly leaned in towards him, bringing his face close until their foreheads touch.

Renji closes his eyes and holds him like that, their brows and noses together, still and at peace. Ichigo mirrored him, bringing his hands up to Renji’s cheeks, holding his head against his. Renji sighs.

Ichigo bites his lip and feels like his heart will break. He swallows and closes his eyes too.

After some time like that, he finally hears himself say it — time to let go, time to watch it die, watch it fall to pieces. It hurt worse after a moment like that, but maybe that was something he could hold onto in the times to come. Like Rukia said — it’s enough, to say goodbye. Maybe it is.  
  


“Grimmjow’s coming tomorrow,” he tells him, and after a second, Renji lets go, staring at him uncomprehendingly through the darkness.  
  


His own voice sounds cold and hollow in his ears, unfeeling almost. “To move you,” he clarified. “They found a place where you can be safe until you make your final journey.” Renji blinks, lips parting.

“There’ll be others like you there — you’ll be okay. No one’s gonna’ hurt you again,” he whispered.

Renji seemed to think that over for some time, staring, a hint of a frown working its way into his brow. He pointed at Ichigo’s chest then, and touched his own questioningly — like he had when Rukia was going.        
  


 _You and me,_  he seems to say — _You and me together._  
  


“No,” Ichigo tells him, and he has to wrench it out. He shakes his head. “Just you.”  
  


Renji touched Ichigo again, then himself. “No. I’m not coming.” Renji shakes his head, a flash of hurt in his eyes.

He sounds harsh them, but only because he’s trying to rip himself away and Renji’s not letting go, isn’t making this easy. “You have to do this. You knew that eventually they were taking you to a new place, where you can be free,” he grit out, “It’s time to say goodbye.”

Renji shook his head more firmly, taking Ichigo’s hands in his imploringly, tugs him unhappily — and it’s agonizing, because all it told Ichigo was that he hadn’t been mistaken, that what he’d thought he’d seen, the feelings he’d felt, Renji really had felt it too — but none of it matters, it doesn’t change anything. He still has to leave. He still has to let go.

“I can’t come,” he insisted. “You have to go the rest of the way on your own.”

When Rukia had gone, Renji had clung onto her fiercely, tried not to let her leave, but this time, Renji stands, backing away from him. He shakes his head again, fuming.

He digs his hands into the ground on all fours as if to say,  _‘You can’t make me go.’  
_

“I’m sorry. I’ve liked having you here. I wish you could stay,” Ichigo said, standing up, trying to make him understand. “But being cooped up in my apartment is no way to live, and I— I care about you,” he told him, voice wobbling for a moment before he steeled himself.

“Don’t make this difficult,” he said, advancing on him, and he can see that Renji’s getting too upset to be reasoned with anymore. He had to bring this to an end.

“No,” Renji said aloud, forcing the word when Ichigo didn’t pay attention to his wild shakes of the head — _no, no —_ and he can see the frantic confusion in Renji’s face, his frustration at being ignored.

He retreats, backing away from Ichigo, “No.”

 _No,_ he says, like he wants to stay. He wants to stay with Ichigo, he doesn’t want to go, and this is what hurts most of all, the look of betrayal in Renji’s eyes as Ichigo walks after him, the way his face drops suddenly when Ichigo took the gun in his hand, held it up.

Eyes wide, his pupils turn to pinpricks. Renji shrinks back from him in fear and surprise, and in that second, they don’t recognize each other. Ichigo could be anybody, a faceless entity there to cause dread and pain to a creature who's nothing to him but a bloodthirsty beast.   
  
  


They are not friends in that moment — Ichigo is a hunter, and Renji is an animal.  
  
  


Renji whipped around, _bolts,_ and Ichigo didn’t waste his chance — squeezes on the trigger hard.  
  


It was so fast that he doesn’t even know what happened for a moment, the _snap_ of the gun in his hand as he pops Renji in the back.  
  


Ichigo stood there numbly, gun cold and heavy in his hand, numb from the recoil as Renji tore away from him, down the hall and out of sight in a flash. He kept standing there, waiting until the struggling and the clamor he heard out in the front of the house stills.

Everything is numb and blurry, his steps slow and fumbling as he walked out there to him, around the corner, and found him collapsed on the floor, strewn in a heap. His eyes are still open.

He thinks he hears the gun fall, clatter away as it slips from his limp grip — he crouches at Renji’s side, pulls the dart from between his shoulders. Renji manages to look at him, unable to move any more than forcing his eye to roll up towards him, and there’s so much rage there, so much hurt and bitterness.  
  


_I thought you were different — Why do I have to go — I can be good, let me stay — You… you shot me… — I thought… I thought…_   
  


“I’m sorry,” Ichigo said, taking his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry,” he tells him, the words coming out slurred and thick. Renji looked at him, eyes glazed over, and then he checks out.  
  


Ichigo turned him on his side, rolling his heavy body, and then curled up there next to him for a long time, the tightness in his throat unbearable.

He doesn’t sleep that night. If he does, it’s just a continuous nightmare of running, screams following him as he runs as hard as he can after bright green eyes, soft fur — but he can’t outpace the truck, the screeching wheels, his mother’s corpse strewn over him, trapping him in place.


	27. Chapter 27

Ichigo wakes up to Grimmjow’s men knocking on the door.  
  


He stands to the side, at first watching as they move Renji, still motionless — then he faces away, hands on the counter, shoulders tense as they load Renji up in a steel crate and take him away.

They’re quick about it, working without speaking, and then after one mutters into a walkie-talkie to tell the guy downstairs to get ready with the truck, they file out. Grimmjow clapped him on the shoulder. “Good job, bud,” Ichigo hears, but it’s like he’s underwater, like he’s not really there.  
  


And they leave — and he's alone again.

 

. . .

 

Ichigo’s lived alone in an apartment for a few years now.

He’s always planned to move back home eventually, it’s always been this thing in the back of his mind that in his adult life the family clinic will be his home. He hasn’t gotten around to going back there even though he’s graduated from college by now and has had a job for some time — he’s been on his own since moving out after high school.  
  


The point is, he’s used to being alone. This shouldn’t be hard.  
  


After Renji leaves, it takes some time before Ichigo’s able to do anything at all, but the first thing he does is clean up.

He’s not going to see Renji again, _ever._ He knows that, so he thinks it’s best to just get past it right away — sweep him out of his brain, out of his life.

Ichigo gathered all of the personal items he’d given Renji into a bag. After standing with it in front of the trash can and finding he can’t quite make himself do it, Ichigo put the bag into a storage box. It’s stupid and sentimental, because it’s not like he needs to keep anything to remember Renji, and if he keeps the items, looking at them will only cause him pain — but he still keeps them, putting them in the back of the closet where he can’t see them.

He cleaned out Renji’s room. He put the extra bed away after airing it and washed the sheets, even though Renji’s hadn’t slept on it at night in the end, instead taking to the floor of Ichigo’s room. Ichigo moved the furniture back in there: his desk, his laptop, the lamp, the floor rug — he doesn’t stop until every trace of Renji is gone, he cleans viciously until he’s done.

When he is, he stands there and pants, shuddering as the silence settles around him again — he’s bereft, nothing left to do, nothing left to fix. All is as it should be. A place for everything and everything in its place.  
  


Well that was it. It was all finished. The house was clean and back to normal, and Ichigo is grey.  
  


It doesn’t go back to normal immediately. The next day is still hard. He finds Renji’s hair in the drain during his showers. When he goes to make some lunch, he opens the fridge and saw the packages of meat, more than he’d ever eat on his own. There are lingering scratches in the paint on the wall around the heating vent — and it is surprisingly hard to adjust to living alone again.

It shouldn’t be. He’s had enough practice. A few weeks shouldn’t be enough to erase all of that, shouldn’t be enough to make loneliness feel unbearable.

He stands there by himself for some time, and then walked to the sofa and turned on the TV for the first time in about a month, staring at it unseeing — and there it is; the ennui.  
  


The next two days pass as days do, and Ichigo is miserable.  
  


He shouldn’t be this cut up, but he felt restless. He’s… _lonely._ He ought to be happy, really, what kind of friend is he — Renji is where he belongs. He’s in a better place now.

But he… he misses him. He misses him already, and it hurts, because he can’t comfort himself with the knowledge that this absence won’t be for long. It’s almost like missing his mom, because he will never, never see Renji again, as if he was dead.  
  


 _‘Why didn’t I ever think to take a picture of us together,’_ he thought bitterly for a moment.

 

 

           No — he’s glad he didn’t.

 

Ichigo got to his feet in an angry flash, stomped down the hall, threw open the closet and ripped out the boxes. He strewed a mess in the hall, clawing for the plastic box he’d purposefully shoved to the back, _out of sight, out of mind —_ he pulled the top off and stormed to the garbage with it, throwing everything out one by one.

It’s useless to keep it, a cheap comb, Renji’s toothbrush, his soap, a pair of socks with holes in the ends — they’re cheap generic items, nothing special about them.

He crumples up the picture Renji drew of them in a fit of rage, the one he now realizes is him, Renji, and Rukia. He wrecks it, smashes it into a ball, worthless, doesn’t matter—

He stopped when he got to the bottom, lifting his own sweater out of the box, the one Renji had held onto with favoritism, presumably having smelled Rukia on it. An uncontrollable bitterness wells up within him.  
  


When he found it, he swallowed hard, gripped it in his hand, and in his zeal, _shoved_ it in the trash, his arm going in up to the elbow.  
  


The box drops to the floor as he does, and when he straightened up, he stood there panting and trembling slightly for a couple moments. He put a hand to his face and slowly inhaled.

Ichigo took the bag out of the trash and tightened it, and then took it down to the dumpster, threw it in, and that’s when it’s final, because he knew himself. He might have gone back in a moment of weakness and regret and taken it back out of his own trashcan, but he won’t crawl in the dumpster to get it back — it’s over.

He trudged back up the stairs into his room, feeling numb. He replaced the trashbag and looked down at the box, kicked to the side and empty—  
  


_Wait._

 

            It’s not.

 

He doesn’t know when he put it there, doesn’t remember doing it, but there’s a manilla folder there in the bottom of the box. Instead of throwing it out right away as he should have, he slowly squatted next to the box, picked it up, and sat at the table with it.

He took the folder out and flicked it open glumly.

Ichigo reread Renji’s basic information. They’d never written down a name for him, he only had a code number, which meant that there must be others like him wherever this information had been filed, numbered like lab animals or prisoners.

Maybe it’s a moment of sentiment, or curiosity. Renji is gone and he won’t see him again, this is the last piece left over and he’d never read it all the way through — who knew why he didn’t just burn it or call Grimmjow to try to give it back. Ichigo stayed up late into the night, rereading each piece of paper in the folder, spreading them out carefully before him.

It’s all vaguely unsettling to read about Renji like a test subject after he’s gotten to know him personally, but he’s numb to it, eyes glazing through — until one moment to the next, he leafed through and flicked a piece of paper over, and his hands still.

He stared, the image burning into his brain as he slowly picked it up.

He knew he hadn’t gone through the whole thing before, but he’d hit most of it. He was curious though. He knew about Renji’s adolescence, the fighting, the steroids, the aggressive streak, _wild, attacked handlers,_ but he doesn’t know anything about afterwards.

That blank space, he hadn’t thought much about it, the time between then and when Ichigo had met him, when he was a pet for a rich man — when Byakuya had owned him. Ichigo hadn’t considered before, but he must not have kept Renji in the house, one, because Rukia didn’t know about it, and two…

Ichigo stared and stared, and then, fingers shaking slightly, he moved the photograph clipped there with a paperclip atop what was clearly the stack of papers accounting Renji’s time as a pet. He scanned the page beneath, and his face felt like it was fixed there with plaster.

Grimmjow’s words come back to him — _‘Whatever you're thinking, it’s worse.’_

 

         It is worse.

 

Numbly, Ichigo reads the time logs, heart in his throat.

   
  


_Female introduced into the enclosure. No reaction. Gas vents opened._

_Breeding successful._   
  


_Female introduced into the enclosure. No reaction. Gas vents opened._

_Breeding successful._   
  


_Female introduced— no reaction— Gas vents—_   
  


_Breeding successful._

_Breeding successful._

_Breeding successful._

 

It goes on for pages, the only variation being the date changing, months passing with the tick of a number. Ichigo’s hands shake.  
  


_Hormone dosage of testosterone, dopamine, vasopressin added to daily medication docket to increase sexual motivation. Hormone dosage of GnRH, LH, FSH added to daily medication docket to promote sperm production._

_Hormones injected. Noted increase in libido. In a following period of three days, subject has become more active, and has self-stimulated 10+ times._   
  


_Female introduced into the enclosure. Noted: Subject immediately mounts. Breeding successful._

 

This goes on for another page or so, until suddenly—

 

 _Female introduced into the enclosure. Hostile reaction. Subject ignores and avoids interaction with female counterpart._ _  
_

_Gas vents opened. No further reaction._

_Female removed when subject does not mount after approx. 30 min._   
  


_Female introduced into the enclosure. Hostile reaction. Female introduced into the enclosure. Hostile reaction. Female introduced into the enclosure. Hostile reaction. Female introduced into the enclosure. Hostile reaction._   
  


_Subject shows no interest to a variety of female partners in heat, does not attempt to mate._

_Subject continues to self-stimulate but has not attempted to mate in 30+ days._   
  


This repeats many times with variations —   _gas vents opened, no reaction, no reaction, hostile reaction, hostile reaction, hostile reaction—_  
  


Until at last: _Subject shows visible signs of being aroused and ready to mate, but will not mount despite hormones administered, gas exposure, and access to female counterpart._

_Subject examined and appears to be in good health, adequate libido, adequate performance of sexual reflex.  Results: inconclusive._

_Subject placed in isolation._   
  


He reads the last line, which repeats and repeats and repeats for the rest of the stack of documentation clipped in with the photo — pages and pages of it, hundreds of times over.  
  


_Sedative administered, material extracted manually._   
  


It is worse. It is more savage and more cruel than anything Ichigo could have imagined if he’d had a fever dream of the most sadistic malpractice nightmare.

 

And he understands then, after staring down at the documents before him for some time. He may have vaguely wondered how one keeps up with the exotic neko trade when they’re so rare and unstable — after all, the government has put a stay on the engineering of any new neko, to try and control the known quantity.

Renji had been kept illegally and used to breed.  
  
At least it made sense now, why Renji had never been castrated to decrease his aggression, like any other animal would have been in his place. When Ichigo had first read his file, he’d wondered why he’d been left intact if he’d caused so much trouble, wild and feral every second of every day — it hadn't made sense to him that someone would want a large male animal as a pet, but it made sense now. Why the fuck  _would_ they castrate him. It would be like killing the golden goose.

Ichigo stared at the picture, _Subject_ _0AT473M,_ and for a second, his brain doesn’t let him recognize it as Renji. It’s too horrible.

The thing is muzzled, chained up and hunched away, shoved into the corner of a metal cage. There are claw marks ripped into the walls. The eyes are wide and blind — scared, furious, _burning._  
  


     The eyes of a wild animal.  
  


Ichigo slammed his fist into the table, eyes wet.

“Byakuya,” he growled.

How involved was he? How much had he known? Was this his fucking idea — had he given the order to, to try and make Renji mate over and over, drugging him and _torturing_ him into mounting whatever poor girls were pushed into his cage, relentless in pushing him to use his seed as much as possible so that any baby tigers that resulted could be sold to his friends?

It made sense though, in a twisted way.

He’d gotten his hands on one of the rarest and most expensive neko, an unimaginably valuable trophy. Why should the train stop there? Why not use him to make more, as many as was possible before he outlived his purpose.

Ichigo flipped the file shut, put his head in his hands.

He hurt to know how much Renji had been hurt, how he’d been _abused,_ kept in a cage, some clinical steel enclosure, trapped his whole life and brought out only to be put on display. How scared he must have been, how damaged his trust in humans must have been by the time he’d reached Ichigo.  
  


How much trust he had to have shown in Ichigo to take his hand and believe, believe that he was different, that he wouldn’t hurt him—  
  


 _‘But we have been friends. Haven’t we.’_  
  


Renji reaching out to him, shaking his hand.  
  


_‘I hope we can be buddies.’_   
  


That’s the only thing that soothed him in this moment of suffering — that he’d given Renji a moment of kindness to brighten a life of agony and humiliation, shown him friendship.

More importantly, all of that is over. All the horrible things he’d had to endure, it’s all over with now, and Renji won’t be hurt anymore. He’s on his way to a better life — and Ichigo had helped him.

But so help him, the next time he sees Byakuya—  
  
  
Jaw clenching with rage, Ichigo is snapped out of his reverie when the phone rings.

He picked up without glancing at the caller ID, going through the motions like he would have when Renji was still living with him, making a report to Grimmjow.

It is Grimmjow.  
  


“Ichigo,” he says, his voice rough and drawn thin, like he’d just been running. “We’ve got a problem,” he growled, “With—”

“Renji,” Ichigo said blankly, hands curling around the phone.  “What happened.”  
  
Even in the horrible scenarios his mind was drawing up, Renji was sick, he’d gotten hurt, he’d hurt one of his handlers, he wasn’t prepared for Grimmjow’s next words — “He got him.”

He took it like a blow to the head. He has a flash of vertigo, doesn’t know if he’s still standing up straight, feels the world spin around him. Everything buzzes numbly around him — he can’t feel his face.

“. . .”

“While he was being transported to the airway,” Grimmjow panted, and Ichigo can still vaguely hear him through the fog. “The truck was intercepted and a bunch of Kuchiki’s guys took him back. There was a shootout.”

“...”

“Kurosaki. Hey. Fuck, Ichigo, are you listening to me?” Grimmjow tried, seeming upset with his lack of reaction, wanting him to be just as worked up as he was. _“The bastard got him — he’s gone.”_  
  


         — at those words, his heart turns black.


	28. Chapter 28

Ichigo’s mind races.

Renji hadn’t made it to safety. He was in danger; Byakuya had him — he was going back to that horrible man who’d kept him like a studhorse. Maybe he hadn’t been personally responsible, but he’d given the okay, he’d organized and paid for him to be abused and locked up.

And Renji was going back to that man. Who knew where he was right now, who knew what was happening to him.

Ichigo’s never felt so much urgency, a need to _hurry and do something,_ and have it swallowed by a feeling of such overwhelming helplessness — he really thought he might vomit. He’s absolutely helpless. He doesn’t know what to do, what _can_ he do? He doesn’t know where Renji is, where he’s being kept, if he’s _hurt—_

He’s got to be so scared, _terrified,_ because he must _know,_ he must be able to smell that he’s being taken back to the dungeon, back to _hell—_ Ichigo can’t let this happen. He has to help him, he has to get him back, he can’t let this happen— he can’t let Renji relive that nightmare, he has to help him—

He must have sounded like he was panicking over the phone, he doesn’t remember saying anything at all, but Grimmjow must know, because he’s trying to talk him down in that way he has, comfort through anger, support through fury, trying to redirect his sorrow with purpose.

“This isn’t it,” he says, steady and level in his rage, but his voice is like flames, hot and _enraged.  
_

But in that moment, any fire inside of Ichigo goes cold and dead, because he’s just a regular guy. He may like excitement but he’s not anyone special. He has no way to help Renji, no way to get to him or rescue him — he doesn’t have the means or the training or the knowledge, he’s never even held a gun other than shooting Renji in the back to let him be taken away.

This sounds like some kind of mob versus police operation, and Ichigo has no place in this, nothing he can do—

The police too, he knows the police can’t do anything. Byakuya’s a powerful guy. His family is deeply involved in politics and he’s the young owner of a very old and prosperous company.  


     There’s nothing — nothing he can do.  


He doesn’t know how he ended up at Rukia’s house. Maybe his subconscious mind instinctively knew — _Yes. There is one thing._

That’s when he told her everything, what he learned about Renji’s past — not the breeding part, unable to stomach it, but he told her that Renji had been kept by Byakuya, that he’d been the mystery owner all along.

She listened silently through it, and Ichigo didn’t exactly know how she reacted, too focused on the relief of blurting it all out, like he was purging.

“We sent him away to— y’know, to be free, but Byakuya musta’ sent some guys,” Ichigo breathed at last, trying to swallow through it, his mouth feeling like sandpaper. “They took him. Renji’s gone.”

“Oh no,” she whispered at long last, eyes distant.

The spark lights then, and Ichigo tried to catch her gaze. “You have to stop him. You have to say something to him,” he said, and he _hopes_ for one shining moment before it is overtaken by the dread that she will not convince him, she will not be enough to change her cold and unfeeling brother’s mind.

And in his dread, it comes to him that she may not even do that much. She may not even _try_ — even to save her friend.

“Can I tell you something?” Rukia murmured, and she looked so bereft, like her soul has let her body. Her head hangs, her eyes are dead and dull, and her voice is like a whisper she has to force out.

“What?” Ichigo blurted, strained and shaky, because he still wants to grab her and _shake her_ — _she’s the last hope he has of getting Renji free, of saving him, Rukia, do something—_

“It’s about Lady Hisana.” Ichigo quiets.

With a long and weary sigh, Rukia told him, “You know, my brother was one of the first to ever bring neko-personhood to the table. He fought for ages, using the family’s political sway.”

“You wouldn't know it, the way he acts,” Ichigo muttered hatefully through gritted teeth. Rukia didn’t react, still staring forward numbly, so Ichigo took a breath and said softer, “Why.”

“When he came of age, his father gave him a gift — a beautiful black rabbit-neko,” and Ichigo can already see where this is going, his stomach clenching, his hands cold.

“He fell in love with her. He loved her so much, he wanted to marry her — but a person can’t marry their pet,” she murmured. “He did everything he could think of to try and push for neko-personhood so that he could marry her. Even against the wishes of his family, and many of the family’s rivals.”

“What happened,” Ichigo asked, even though he already knows.

“She died.” Rukia closed her eyes, face turned away. “He never recovered from that grief. It’s like the world turned dark before his eyes. After that, everything changed.”  


It’s a sad story, really it is, but — “What does Renji have to do in all this.”  


She raised her head then, as if begging him to understand. “I never knew,” she says desperately. “Ichigo, I never knew.”

Part of him had wondered, some deep dark part of him had wondered who had tipped Byakuya off, how he’d found out — somewhere under all the trust he had for his best friend, he’d _wondered if maybe—_

“I believe you,” he said, and he does. “But now you do.”

 _‘Now you do know. So what are you going to do now.’_  


       “But… But what can I do?”  


“You’re the only one who can do anything. So are you going to do something or not?” Ichigo grit out. Her eyes are wide and frightened, and Ichigo begged that she find some bravery, that she find the strength to strike back at her brother, to scold and argue against his cruelty, to tell him this is _wrong,_ maybe Byakuya will listen to her, she has to do this—

“I…” She was quiet for a long time, and at last, put her head down.

A fiery hot tendril of rage and poison winds up in his throat, wants to _spit,_ wants to scream _‘Don’t you care?’_ — _‘Doesn’t he mean anything to you?’_ — _‘He trusted you, I trusted you!’_

But he just nods coldly. She still doesn’t respond, head hanging. He stands up and turns his back, leaves. She’s not going to help him.

And hope is gone.

 

. . .

 

Ichigo doesn’t know how much time passes before Grimmjow shows up at his house in a rage. It’s probably still the same day but he’s not sure. Everything is a dismal ache, chilling him to the bones.

His friend’s passion does little to wake him up again. Grimmjow is fucking _pissed,_ pacing his kitchen while Ichigo sits there, numb and staring forward.

“He fucking got him!” he barked. “All those fucking months of planning, _wasted._ ” He rounded on Ichigo and shouted, “What happened?! How the fuck did he know?! Our operation was airtight!”

Again, some dark bitter part of him wants to blame Rukia, thinks she must have told, that’s why she wouldn’t help, that it had to be something more than fear and devotion to her brother. She had to have betrayed them —

But the steady rational part of his mind knows that can’t be true. She’d known Renji was being sheltered at his apartment, but Renji had been stolen from some other location. She couldn’t have known where he would be or the timing or any of it. She hadn't even known it was Byakuya. No, she might not want to help him, but she hadn’t betrayed them to Byakuya. She’d wanted Renji to escape to safety.

And then Grimmjow fumes, “This puts us back at square one,” like he’s actually planning on going on with this craziness. Like he’d meant it earlier when he’d said _this isn’t it,_ as if to say, _we’re getting him back if we have to take this to the ditches—  
_

Ichigo looked up blankly, unable to rile up any enthusiasm, having lost all hope.

“What? You’re gonna’ try to get him back?” he wondered, dull and sullen. “There’s no way that you can.”

Grimmjow bared his teeth, enraged. “Fuck if I’m not gonna’ get him back from that fucking _monster!_ Like hell I’m not!” he hollered, and Ichigo can see he means it. That should give him a little hint of something, because Grimmjow makes crazy things happen all the time.

There’s a lot of stuff you can do that normal people can’t when you don’t care about the law, about personal safety, about bounds of reason — Grimmjow has none of those. If he got it in him to care that much about something and get the bit in his teeth, he almost always gets what he wants in the end.

Which makes Ichigo wonder why he was turning the engine of his rage onto this in particular, why he was putting in this much effort. He can’t bring himself to care as much as he had in the beginning, the times he’d asked in the past, because he still is in a gloom of despair, _Renji is lost, he’s back in the hands of people who will torture him and abuse him, keep him alive only so they can forcefuck him and hope he makes babies they can sell—_

It’s something anyone with a heart would care to stop — but Grimmjow is not, and never has been a bleeding heart. In fact, he doesn’t care about anything but himself. Rarely, he’ll do something halfway nice for Ichigo’s sake, but it’s a snowflake in a furnace.

“You still haven’t told me why you’re doing this,” Ichigo muttered flatly. 

“It’s my job.”

“Yeah, but it’s you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Grimmjow denied indignantly, and now Ichigo’s positive there’s something more.

“I thought you didn’t even like him,” Ichigo pointed out.

“Cause he’s a little _shit_ s’why—”

“So why’re you insisting on doing this when it’s fucking pointless. Why do you even care,” Ichigo demands. “Really.”

He’s never known Grimmjow to go this far for another person, and if he didn’t even like Renji then all the more reason to cut his losses and try again another day with another neko.

Grimmjow glared at him for a long time without replying, and Ichigo knew he’d hit on something and Grimmjow was just weighing whether to tell him to fuck off and mind his own business, or—

“I dunno’ if you know,” he started, lighting up a cigarette, and Ichigo doesn’t stop him, because he might have actually gotten Grimmjow to admit something personal, “but my dad was in the mob.”

 _‘I could’ve guessed,’_ he wants to say, but wisely bit his tongue.

Grimmjow took a drag or two, and then exhaled the words with the smoke, like it was poison in his mouth, “He kept a lotta’ pets like him.” Short and bitter, he said, “My mom.”

Ichigo watched on, lips parting. Grimmjow won’t look at him, hand in a hot white fist on the counter, the other gripping his cigarette so hard he was nearly pinching it in half. He seemed to regret having started this conversation, but wasn’t backing out.

“But I was born visibly human,” he muttered, only saying as much as necessary, letting Ichigo fill in the obvious details. “So I got to grow up as one.”

Feeling like he was the one with ash in his mouth, Ichigo swallowed and with a slow and cracking voice, said, “I thought humans and neko couldn’t crossbreed.”

He can hear himself and he sounds horrified, maybe because he’s never thought about it much before, but now that he has, he can’t stop. It flashes before his eyes, every neko that's ever been owned — _how much suffering, how many rapes—_  


Grimmjow is silent for a moment. “You read the file though,” he pointed out. “So you know.”  


He does. The ultimate purpose that neko were kept for by the rich, whether it be the mafia or those above board — they’re an exotic pet on the surface, but they’re there to be sex dolls, or like Renji, were made to breed for their owner’s personal profit.

It’s human nature, when given complete control of another being, to abuse that power when left unchecked, when given no limits. It’s been seen over and over through the ages and continued on, something that they never outgrew as a society, exploitation, enslavement.

“My mom too,” Grimmjow said, voice hard, like he feels that he’s gotten this far, Ichigo had wanted to know so why not shock him, why not make him feel as sick and horrible as possible.

“It was like that. Guy was farming them. A puppymill basically,” he said, casually, emotionlessly, like it didn’t even matter to him. He let smoke pour from his mouth. “Wasn’t satisfied with regular pimping, I guess.”

“What happened to her,” Ichigo breathed.

“He shot her dead.” Grimmjow leveled him with a heavy look, staring him down in both eyes, as if daring him to say anything. “When she tried to get me back from him.” A mother animal reaching for her young — no stronger drive in nature, no greater love.  


_“Stupid bitch,”_ he grit out, low and nasty, but his eyes gleamed.  


Ichigo swallowed, breaking the gaze, because the pain was there, raw and burning and unbearable. Grimmjow must've been old enough to remember it. He must've seen it happen.

Grimmjow stubbed his cigarette out on Ichigo’s countertop, voice unsteady with rage and something else. 

“I wanted this case,” he growled. “I wanted to bust him out and see Kuchiki go to jail for the rest of his life.”

Some sort of retribution, a desire for revenge, despite never being able to go back, never being able to right the wrongs done to him and his own family, he was holding onto this like it would bring him peace.

“I’m getting him _back,”_ Grimmjow barked, eyes wild and searching. “So are you gonna’ help me?”

He stands there, shoulders shaking with heavy breaths, staring at Ichigo almost with desperation, and Ichigo is overcome with the feeling of helplessness again, pitiful and disappointing, what can he do — _‘Me?’_ he thinks.  


But Renji’s waiting, and if there’s even a one percent chance that he might get free again…  


Ichigo sighed, putting a hand to his face and Grimmjow kept staring him down, setting his jaw, like he was readying to completely explode, shout, hit him, do anything to make him do something—  


_‘The bad guy steals a guy. The cop chases the bad guy and beats the shit out of him — so what about me then…?’_

 

Ichigo opened his eyes.

 

              “What do I have to do?”


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience. ♥

He and Grimmjow have a complicated, if reckless, plan laid out.  
  


Using all the information left over from the first covert raid done on Kuchiki’s estate to retrieve Renji, they have their hands on a detailed map of the grounds, and the different levels of the house. They can guess where Renji is being held, even though it’s possible that he’s been moved.

This is where having informants and mob connections comes in handy. Grimmjow calls in favors, and they find out where Renji is placed, right down to the room number.

When the time comes, someone will go and rescue Renji and take him to safety.

Grimmjow had come prepared, and once Ichigo was convinced to help, he laid it all out for him. Ichigo listened to all this, feeling encouraged, because it sounded like they had what was needed to really do this — right up until Grimmjow tells him that the person who is going to be sent in to retrieve Renji is—

 

     “You’re gonna’ do it.”      Because... of course he is.

 

Ichigo just stares at him for a second, and really, he should have expected this because Grimmjow is a bullshit factory and the crazy thing is that he _means it._

“Shouldn’t a professional be doing this?” Ichigo’s doesn’t go in for spy operations. He’s going to blow this all up in their face when he makes a mistake. All the assets that they already have, the map, the inside help, none of that's going to matter if he fucks it all to shit.

That’s when Grimmjow tells him reluctantly, “The higher-ups haven’t okayed this. They’re pulling the plug on this operation.”

“What?” he breathed.

“Kuchiki’s too powerful. He’s got friends everywhere,” he said grimly. “It was different when we busted the tiger out the first time, because he wasn't expecting it, but now he's going to be on red alert and my bosses don't want any part of that. We’re gonna' have to do this ourselves.”

Ichigo tried to steel himself, but suddenly it all seemed a lot scarier, a lot harder. Can they really do this?

“Once you two’re out, I’ll call in backup,” Grimmjow says, “But you’ve got to keep a cool head. You have to go in and get him. Are you willing to go that far?”

 

    Ichigo sets his jaw, because he is.  
  


It takes a couple days to get everything ready. They go over the plan again and again until Ichigo knows it backwards and forwards, down to the minutiae.

He’s a little impressed actually, because he’d always known his friend was crafty, but this is actually a pretty good plan. He thinks they really have a chance at pulling this off.

Equipped with an earpiece, Ichigo walked up to the house with his gut twisting with nerves. He’s got on the same black and white coveralls that all the other gardeners and maintenance workers around the estate wear, and a hat pulled on over his head — more importantly, his hair. Rukia had invited him to come visit her here a couple times and now he’s glad he’d always turned it down. Less chance of being recognized. As Grimmjow has prepared him, the most important thing right now is to play it cool, act like he belongs.

 _‘Don’t look fucking nervous,’_ Grimmjow’s voice crackled into his ear, and he swallowed, trying to obey, but he can’t deny his palms are sweating and his heart is pounding. _‘Okay, go around the back.’_

In this way, Grimmjow directed him through the garden and then into the house. Ichigo can’t help but stare around him in awe, taking a few steps in and turning around, looking above him at the high ceiling, the opulence of the crystal hanging down.  

 _'Keep focused. You've gotta' move fast, remember this is fucking time-sensitive, you’ve only got so much time before others will start to catch on.'_  Ichigo cracks his knuckles and takes a few unsteady breaths. He can only answer Grimmjow when he's on his own. 

"Okay. Okay, I know."

_'You're doing fine. If you run into anybody, just keep walking like nothing’s up.’_

Grimmjow directed him down a few flights of steps and around a few corners to a nondescript black door with a silver handle, like a janitor’s closet or boiler room. This was part one — almost more important than retrieving Renji was to collect evidence. That way if their plan went south, they can still fight this in court. That is, if they let Ichigo live if they find him.  
  


It’s dark inside, empty but for a desk and a monitor, some shelves and steel filing cabinets.  
  


 _‘Security feeds for the basement,’_ Grimmjow muttered urgently. _'There should be some sort of dated file. You wanna’ look for anything from hallways 5T to 3T, and rooms A1 to A7, under the date August twentieth to the twenty-third.’_

Ichigo listened as he slowly sat down at the computer, the glow illuminating his face as he looked for what he needed, opening one file and then the next. _‘Check one or two to make sure we’ve got some clear shots.’_

Most of the videos are shots of an empty hallway, but he knew he’d landed on it when he opened a clip and scrubbed through it and saw a sudden dark blur. Rewinding again, playing it out, it’s definitely Renji. He tried to view it with an impersonal eye, but it's hard. Renji’s restrained, obviously struggling, dragged down the hallway by three or four men, and then they’re out of sight of the camera.

“This is definitely it,” he whispers, dragging the files to the drive he’d jammed into the side of the computer unit.

There’s a shot from one of the room monitors, it’s kind of grainy, but it’s clear enough. Renji is held still by the back of the neck and the top of his head. It's hard to see his expression from how low rez the shot is, but Ichigo can tell how scared he is from the dark spot on his pants.

Byakuya’s there in the frame, looking him over with a cold appraising glance. He took Renji’s face in one hand, squeezed it when he thrashed, turning it towards him to look at him. Then he lets go, and turns. Renji is taken out of the room and Byakuya remains there on his own for a few moments.

His head is a black blur on the staticky video feed, his face expressionless. It chilled Ichigo’s heart.

 

    “This is it,” he hears himself say, his voice sounding loud and slurred in the silence.  
  


_‘Good. Get what you can, don’t take too long. Keep moving.’_   
  


He pulls the drive out, and remembers he has to be prepared to swallow it at a moment’s notice. Even if he’s taken, he can’t let the tapes be compromised, can’t let them know he has them.

After that, Grimmjow is clearly leading him closer to Renji’s location, because there are more storm doors and a keycode pad he has to smash with his boot — luckily, Grimmjow had gotten a guy to trip the alarm, but this still meant that they were on a timer now. He only had a few minutes he could count on before they would be found out, he had to hurry—

The halls are white and empty other than reflective domes on the ceilings to let one see around corners, like it’s a hospital or something.

 _“That one. A3. He’s in there now,”_ Grimmjow’s voice comes through. _“Careful. You’ve got no idea what he might be on right now. They probably pumped him fulla' drugs. He might not even recognize you.”_

 

"He will," Ichigo murmurs, but to be honest, he doubts. For the plan to work, Renji had to recognize him. That was how they were going to escape — by vanishing into plain sight.

Ichigo unlatches the bolts lining the door, peering through the frosted plexiglass slot. His hands shake, his heart pounding in his ears, sounding almost like footsteps closing in on him, fuck, hurry up—

This is Renji’s cage — or one of them. He realizes it the moment he opens the door, slow and cautious in case the hinges squeaks. The room is empty but for a drain on the floor, and Renji.

“He’s here,” he whispers to Grimmjow, standing there petrified for a moment. "He definitely isn't sedated." Maybe the worst thing is that he somehow didn’t expect him to look so bad off. Even in the video feed, he'd looked to be in alright shape, but now it’s almost like the first time Ichigo had seen him. He's almost like the creature in that photograph.

It’s a shock, stops his heart, the way he looks. Renji is huddled in the corner. He’s panting and pouring with sweat, _trembling,_ chained up and muzzled.

“Renji,” he said, voice gentle but strained with urgency. “Renji, hey. Let’s go. I'm getting you out.” Renji doesn’t respond, doesn’t even react to his name.

“It’s me,” he tried, approaching Renji’s side, bare and gleaming with sweat. He’s naked, and that might be what disturbed him the most, that they’d done that to him again the moment they’d gotten him back, stripped him naked and left him completely exposed — an animal, no need for clothes, no dignity—

“Renji, it’s me,” he breathed. Renji finally reacts when he touches him, thrashing and huffing quick panicked breaths into the gag. He looks up to Ichigo, his eyes peering through his hair, scared and wild, and for a second Ichigo's stomach plunges with dread, because Renji's looking right at him and doesn't show any signs of knowing him, only pure blind terror.

Ichigo bites the inside of his cheek at the sight of him. There are scratches on his face where he’d clawed at the muzzle, there are bruises around his cuffs where his arms are bound behind his back, wrist to wrist. He'd been struggling.  
  


 _‘Careful — careful!’_ Grimmjow barks, able to pick up the sounds of the scuffle through the mic.  
  


He doesn't know if Renji's hallucinating or what, but he fights Ichigo like he's about to hurt him. He fights Ichigo hard as he unlatches the muzzle and pulls it from his face, thrashes and writhes as Ichigo struggles to free his arms. He doesn’t lash out, instead cowering away, hands above his head, shoving his body into the corner as much as was possible.

"It's me. Renji, it's me. Look at me. Renji," he coaxes.

Ichigo whipped off his hat and grabbed at Renji’s shoulder, fighting to turn him around. Renji is wild in his desperation, _don’t touch me,_ but when he sees Ichigo, really _looks_ at him with the hat off, it only takes a moment or two for the quivering dot of his pupil, shrunk with a ferocious _terror,_ to still. His face relaxes, and he blinked rapidly — recognizes him.  
  


     “... Ichigo,” he croaked, voice dry and whispery.  
  


Ichigo watched as Renji’s eyes filled with tears, face crumpling. “Ichigo,” he slurred, welling up.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he says, heart in his throat. Renji put his hands out to Ichigo’s face, holding it, touching it like he can’t believe he’s here. "I came to get you," he says, offering a crooked smile as Renji's tired eyes lit up with hope.  
  


 _'Me?'_ Renji gestures, cheeks wet, and Ichigo nodded.  
 

“C’mon buddy,” Ichigo says, swallowing through emotion of his own. He put an arm under Renji’s, hefting him to his feet. “Let’s get you out of here.”

 

. . .

 

This was going to be harder than expected. Their flawless plan hadn’t accounted for finding Renji completely nude. For one, they can’t sneak out like this — they’re going to have to think of something fast.  
  


“This isn’t going to work,” Ichigo hissed to Grimmjow. “We can’t blend in.”  
  


_‘Why not? Calm him down then!’_   
  


“No, he’s butt naked is why not,” he grit out, “I’ve got nothing to give him other than the jumpsuit, and we're supposed to ditch that in the escape.”  
  


 _‘Find something, be quick about it—’_ Ichigo’s doing his best, looking both ways at the end of each hallway and then leading Renji after him, coaxing him along. Renji’s really scared, slightly hunched over, his breaths quick with agitation and distress, but he follows trustingly, led along by the hand.

If a single person sees them, they’re done. There’s no _acting natural_ about walking a neko out of the house in broad daylight.

“Okay Renji, let’s move,” Ichigo whispered to him urgently, and they dash up another set of steps after a quick listen, taking them up to the ground floor level of the house.

Renji followed Ichigo through a couple rooms, down a hall, and then wouldn’t budge another inch. They’re pretty close to a door that will take them outside, they just have to dart across the main stairs and through another couple rooms, that's what Grimmjow says, voice growing tight with urgency, temper rising as the pressure built, _they’re running out of time—_

“Renji,” Ichigo urged. “Renji, c’mon, we have to go,” but Renji won’t move, ears back, lips parted, not even breathing. His eyes flick from one side to the other, wide and unseeing, and as Ichigo took a peek around the corner, he froze.  
  


Rukia’s staring back at him in surprise, standing motionless on the steps.  
  


“Rukia,” Ichigo heard himself breathe, and the crackle in his ear of Grimmjow shouting at him, what the fuck does he think he’s doing, it’s not time to just fucking stand there—

She unfreezes and slowly walks the rest of the way down. Renji peeks out along with Ichigo, hesitant and uncertain. When he saw her, he shuffled out of the hallway towards her, a few steps at a time, staring at her with large wounded eyes. "Rukia," he whispers.

She put her arm out for him and Renji crouched next to her, and she held his head to her front. Ichigo stared silently, remembering the way Renji had clung to her before, how he’d pet her, how he’d wriggled with excitement and joy — this time he just stays there motionless, stiff and traumatized, head pressed to her chest, every muscle tight with distress as he seeks comfort from her.

“What are you doing here?” she breathed, looking up into Ichigo’s face like she thinks she’s dreaming, like she can’t comprehend that Ichigo had really come here to get Renji, because really, why else would he be here.

“Getting him out,” he said shortly. “We decided to give it another shot.”

And he waits for her to scold him on the pointlessness, or to tell him that she’ll have to tell her brother, she can’t let them leave— but what she says is, “Why didn’t you say anything to me.”

“I thought you wouldn’t help,” he said honestly, and it ached, a bitter hollow ache, he’d wanted to be able to count on her in a moment as important as this.

She stood there conflicted. Renji moves for the first time since collapsing into her embrace. He tilted his head up, looking up at her, eyes holding hers for a long time.  
  


At last she takes a long breath and meets Ichigo’s gaze, steely and determined. “Come with me,” she said.

 

. . .

 

Dressed in a hoodie, jeans, sneakers, and a beanie on his head to tuck away his hair, Renji stood at Ichigo’s side, nervous and clammy.  
  


“Stand up straight. Renji,” Ichigo tried to tell him, firm and serious to try and tell him how important it was that he do this even if he was scared. “The disguise won’t work if you look suspicious. You have to make people believe you’re a human like everyone else. If they realize, we’re gonna’ get caught. You _have_ to get through this. Here,” he said. “Straighten your back. Yep. Hold your head up, okay good, now just look straight ahead and follow me, okay?”

Renji takes a long breath, and nodded.  
  


 _‘Ichigo,’_ Grimmjow’s voice came through, sharp with an edge of panic. _‘Go. You’ve got to go now.’_  
  


Rukia’s disguise was all that was going to carry them now. They were out of time.

Ichigo unzipped his jumpsuit and hopped a couple times to try and pull his booted feet through, he needed the plain clothes underneath for the getaway. The alarm siren goes off, screaming through the house. _‘Go, get outside! — right now!’_ Grimmjow shouted.

“Shit, c’mon Renji!” Ichigo takes his hand and they run for it, bolting through the house, and he knows it’s a close thing, because he can hear they’re being pursued, they don’t have time to stop—

And then they’re out on the street, running down the drive, and the second they’re on the sidewalk, Ichigo stops, blending in with the crowd, taking his time walking to the subway so they could lose anyone following. "Stay close."

Renji does, sticking next to him, eyes wide. He looked scared, overstimulated by all the sounds and smells. His hair is standing on end, and he clearly wants to hold his hand again. “No,” Ichigo muttered under his breath. “No, Renji.” Renji stared around him in alarm, huddling against his side.

“Whew,” Ichigo gasped, still out of breath from the last stretch of sprinting. “Just keep walking. We’re almost there. You can do this.” Renji followed at his side, and Ichigo knows that he’d lived on the streets for a short time, but it was clearly a lifetime ago. He obviously hasn’t been outside since then, because he’s soaking everything up, staring around him unblinkingly, the billboards, the people milling past, the crosswalk, the bicycles, children in their school uniforms.

 _‘Go down the subway steps and come up the other side. Then you’re gonna’ meet us in the park just across the street. The getaway van’s parked on the far side,’_ Grimmjow told him, sounding a bit more composed after the near miss.  
  


Ichigo’s about to show Renji down the steps, pull them into the crowd with the other commuters, but Renji stiffened up, nose twitching. "Renji—"  
  


“Run,” he said aloud, and pushed Ichigo roughly. He stumbled and looked up just in time to see a black flash. There are men running after them. Renji grabs his arm and yanks him into the street with him. Horns blare and tires scream, headlights blinding him, and for a moment Ichigo’s frozen, trapped inside the cycle of an endless nightmare — but Renji drags him forward and then they’re running, _running, running_ —

And they keep running, and Ichigo gasps for breath, in that horrible moment he’s exhilarated, it didn’t get them, he got away—

It’s when they reach the city park that they’re cornered on both sides. Renji whipped around wildly, looking for an escape, but there’s nowhere to go. Ichigo can hear the police sirens in the distance, but it won’t be fast enough.

“Don’t move! I’ll fucking shoot!” Ichigo put his hands on his head immediately, winded from running for so long, still trembling with adrenaline.  
  


Grimmjow is clattering in his ear. _‘Respond! Ichigo! How close are you?! We’re right there — Respond!’_  
  


It’s too late. It’s too late, they weren’t fast enough. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen now.  
  


“Get on the ground! _Now!”_  
  


He doesn’t even question it, it doesn’t cross his mind not to obey, they have fucking guns— Ichigo doesn’t believe in an afterlife, so all he has is this one. Whatever these guys do to them, as long as they don’t die—

He lowered to his knees one at a time. Renji doesn’t. He stands there, continues circling in a half-crouch, and at last shows his fangs, a growl ripping from his throat.

“Renji,” he breathed, heart beating so fast that he can hardly speak. He gasped and tried to follow Renji with his eyes, holding as still as he can, hoping the armed men in full riot gear don’t shoot, _don’t shoot—_  “Renji, please, just do what they say,” he gets out, quick and panicked.    _God, don’t shoot him—_

Renji stops in front of him, teeth bared, holding his arms out in a futile effort to cover him. “Renji, just lay down on the ground,” he begged, but Renji kept trying to shield him, snarling his rage at one man then the next.

There’s a loud explosion, _a gunshot,_ he realizes, and Ichigo flinches, caving in on himself, the shock of it scaring him so much that he knows now why small animals can die from fright.

He’s pretty sure that’s what a heart attack feels like, a sharp jolt of pure blind terror rattling through him like lightning, completely stopping his heart and breath and his _thoughts_ for a full second or so.

He’s fine other than shuddering as hyperventilation sets in, his heart hammering wildly, frantic and off-beat.  
  


      Renji staggered.  
  


Ichigo watches him stumble and hold his gut, almost in confusion, and suddenly there’s a circle on his lower back. First it’s no more than a dot, but it grows larger and larger, a wet rose blossom soaking up with blood. He’s been shot — and not with a tranq dart. _They fucking shot him._

Renji’s still standing after the blast, and just grunted, enraged. _“Fuck you!”_ he howled furiously.

“Get on the fucking ground!”

Ichigo drops. Renji stands over him, baring his teeth, and then as a masked man in riot gear advances towards them, Renji lunges.

Ichigo stared numbly as he was peppered with bullets, striking him in the back one after the other. He can feel the concussive force of the explosion in his own chest. He can’t move, can’t breathe as he watches Renji fall, first to his knees, then collapses.  
  


Eyes wide, he can’t do anything, doesn’t know if he’s screaming or if that’s the police finally showing up — _dead, dead, he’s dead—_  
  


 _‘Get down!’_ Grimmjow yelled, he can hear him through the earpiece and the air at the same time. They’re here— too late, too late—   
  


Ichigo does, covering his head.  
  


He crawls to Renji, inch by inch, as gunfire rattles back and forth above him.

 

When he reaches his side, Renji’s motionless, still warm. “I’m sorry,” Ichigo thinks he says, but he can’t hear himself, it’s too loud.

 

           “I’m so sorry.”


	30. Chapter 30

Ichigo takes a while to get over everything.

 

The following months are a blur.

 

In the end, Rukia’s brother was taken into custody, but was out on ridiculously high bail — Ichigo’s not optimistic about the outcome, the rich rarely do time.

Rukia is caught in the middle somewhere. They haven’t talked a lot. She’s being called to testify by both the prosecution and defense on those numerous court dates.

The hardest part of this by far is that Grimmjow keeps trying to come and see him, trying to snap him out of it. To be fair, Ichigo doesn’t think he’s ever hit a rut as deep as this in the time he’s known Grimmjow, and the idiot must not know what to do with him, doesn’t know how to comfort a person, can’t empathize — _why are you still cut up over that shit, it was months ago now? We did it, he’s free now, so why are you like this?_  
  


After the most recent attempt, Ichigo had really let him have it, stewing long enough that it finally burst out.  
  


“If you think we can go on as we have after this, you’re insane,” he told him, voice deceptively bereft of emotion. “I can never, never forgive you for what you put me through.” It works better with Grimmjow than shouting, because he took a step back, surprised and wounded. He rounds on him an instant later, his typical ‘well fuck you too’ response sharp on his tongue.

“It’s your own fucking fault you got attached.”

“How did you ever think that I wouldn’t,” Ichigo muttered, and Grimmjow shut up, because they both know what Ichigo’s like.

A bleeding heart if ever there was one. He’s always on the side of the underdog, he genuinely cares for his friends, how could Grimmjow have ever thought he’d get through this with no emotional investment.

He’s so goddamn tired, too tired to do this anymore. He doesn’t want to see his face ever again. If this is the price of excitement, then he’d rather live with the ennui for the rest of time. It’s not worth what's happened. 

“I know I owe you,” Grimmjow tried, getting it in him to grovel, to try and apologize — badly of course, but he still tries, spooked as he always was when Ichigo really started thinking about ending their friendship. This time it’s for good.

“It’s worse than that,” Ichigo told him, because he’s not getting it. Grimmjow doesn’t get how bad he’s hurt him, he doesn’t get that he went too far. “You can never make up for this. You’ve burned me before, Grimmjow — but I can’t let this one go.”

“Let me make it up to you,” he actually grits out, that’s how low he’s willing to go to try and get back in Ichigo’s good graces.  
  


“You can’t. Just go,” Ichigo breathed, gritting his teeth and turning away.  
  


Grimmjow stands there for a long time, then set his jaw, and left.  


The immediate aftermath was the worst, but it had faded the most quickly. Ichigo doesn’t know how long he laid there on the ground, how long he stayed there and didn’t move after the firefight, remembers being pulled to his feet and shoved into an ambulance. He must’ve been in shock by that point, because after that, he doesn’t remember feeling anything else, numbly taking in information, vaguely aware of Grimmjow staying with him.

After Renji was injured, they were separated, Ichigo brought in for medical care and questioning while Renji was taken into government custody. He was moved to a facility to be treated, a great deal of resources spent in saving his life, too valuable to be wasted — he survived, so Grimmjow tells him. He’s recovering now, under constant observation.

In the end, when he’d regained his health, Renji was shipped overseas. He made it to the sanctuary. In his updates, Grimmjow had told him that he isn’t doing well — isn’t very active, low appetite, depressed and sluggish, but it's normal when they first get there. He's improving steadily.

He’d called, asking if Ichigo still had Renji’s file, they need to surrender it to his caretakers so they can try to evaluate his condition — did he suffer PTSD, for instance, had he been separated from a favorite handler, or a mate perhaps?

Ichigo had grit his teeth at that, because a tiger can easily find another mate — human heartbreak lasts longer.

 

The day after Grimmjow had called, telling him it was time to move Renji to a different safehouse, Ichigo had purged his home of all traces of Renji in a wild fit, throwing it all in the dumpster, not wanting to see anything of his and _remember,_ because he didn’t need those things to remember Renji.

Now it’s different. He wants to remember every second of every day. He doesn’t want to let go of what he has left — so once it all settles down, Ichigo goes out and gets a tattoo. A plain black band around his arm.  


Grimmjow comes over again to his chagrine, because he’d thought he’d gotten him to understand that he was saying goodbye for good, didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, but Grimmjow kept pestering him — this time, Ichigo loses his temper.

“What the fuck are you doing back here?”

“I dunno’, it’s been a while, thought you might’ve cooled off enough to fucking listen to me for once?”

 _“For once?”_ Ichigo barked, disgusted, “What the fuck could you possibly have to say to me. Can’t you get it through your head to leave me alone? No, nevermind, you never care about a damn thing I say, why should you listen to me now.”

“Look, I know that you’re pissed,” Grimmjow tried, clearly starting to get a little steamed despite doing his best to let Ichigo berate him, because he clearly knew it was well deserved. “If you don’t want to see me after today, I’ll go, but I know you’ll change your mind.”

“Leave,” Ichigo demands. “I don’t care what the fuck you think you can string me along with this time—”

“He meant a lot to you, I get that, and I know that I was slow on the uptake, but I get it now— If I’d figured it out sooner I would’ve done things differently, but it’s not too late. I told you I’d make it up to you, and—”

“Haven’t you done enough?! Aren’t you satisfied with how much you’ve ruined my life?! God, you’re so fucking selfish!” Ichigo yells at him, and Grimmjow’s face contorts in anger, and he tries to say something, but Ichigo shouts over him. “Pathetic Ichigo, always gonna’ be there for you when it’s convenient—”

A vein pops in Grimmjow’s forehead. “Now wait one fucking minute—”

“Just get out! I don’t want to see your fucking face ever again! You fucking used me!” Ichigo raged through gritted teeth, because this is the last time Grimmjow is going to burn him. 

“I said I was sorry!” he tried, and any other time Ichigo would have let it go, because that’s what he fucking does — Grimmjow treats him badly and Ichigo just keeps sticking around. But this is not like any other time, so Ichigo doesn’t care about his fucking apology. It just enrages him to the point that his vision is blurring, maybe this is what it means to see red.

“And I said apology not accepted — it’s not fucking good enough!” he screamed. “Get out, get away from me!”

“I told you to let me fucking make it up to you then, if you’re pissed! So I did!” Grimmjow barked, but the fire goes out of his words almost immediately. He took a step back, looking sort of awkward, _stricken._

“I did, so forgive me already... and stop fucking _crying!”_ he practically yelps, looking truly sorry.  
  


“What?” Ichigo panted, still seething, shoulders slowly dropping. “You did what?”  
  


His own voice is pathetic and flat in his ears, and when he breathes in, it’s blocked with mucus, he still can’t see, only feels it clear when he blinks. His cheeks are cold.

Grimmjow won’t look at him, staring at his boots. “I called in some favors… found out where he’s being kept,” he muttered.

Ichigo just stared at him speechlessly, lifting a hand to his nose and wiping as he sniffed.

“They’ve agreed to make a special arrangement,” Grimmjow told him, pulling on the back of his hair and chancing a glance at him. “If you can get the credentials, then…”

“What?” he breathed, lips parting. Grimmjow shifted, looking away from him, like his damp face and teary eyes are somehow too obscene even for someone like him to look at straight on.

“What are you saying?” he croaked.

With a sigh, Grimmjow told him, “It’s not too late to change careers.”

“What do you mean?”

He slapped a packet down in front of him, slid it towards him forcefully, glare harsh but also a bit hesitant, anxious to see Ichigo’s reaction.

Ichigo glanced down at it, sliding it a little closer, and a breath leaves him in a rush, like it was punched out of him. _  
_

He looks up at Grimmjow wordlessly. They’re not the type of friends who can hug each other in any situation, so in a final attempt at apology and comfort Grimmjow just grips him by the shoulder, painfully tight, and shakes him around until his teeth rattle.  
  


He held the stack of paper in his hands, crinkling it slightly in his trembling grasp.      _‘Neko handling and care — application process.’_  


   “Lemme’ make it up to you.”


	31. Chapter 31

_10 mo. later_

. . .

 

“Are you ready, Mr. Kurosaki?”

Damn, he still can’t get used to hearing his name said in that accent.

It’s been hard and slowgoing — but today is finally the day. He’s a long way from home, speaks barely any of the language and has been working tirelessly, but that doesn’t matter now that he’s come to the end. It’s all going to be worth it in a couple of minutes.

He’s left all his personal belongings inside with a staff member. He’s been equipped with a panic button and some protective gear, but he plans to shed it pretty much as soon as he’s out of sight of the main building.

“Ready,” he says, cringing at his own accent, just as awful.

Finally, he’s sent through the door out into the wilds all on his own.

The facility Ichigo has come to is one of several outposts provided by the sanctuary. Housepets and other more social species of wildlife are kept in closer quarters together. Other animals that live their lives in isolation are afforded with a great deal of individual space, and kept partitioned from one another, the borders fenced off.

This outpost is in a picturesque part of the mountainside. It’s beautiful, the open sky scattered with masses of cloud that tower above him, the lush green mountains surrounding them cutting a line across the horizon in the distance.

It’s late spring, and there is just a slight chill lingering in the air, not enough to trouble him.

He looked out across the field, thick and tangled with tall grass, dappled with the shadows of great clouds passing overhead. He lifts a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, hair blowing in the gentle wind as he gazes on to the distant trees. Then he starts walking — each of the partitions has something like twenty square miles of open wilderness.

He doesn’t have far to go, makes it about halfway across the field, still in view of civilization, the flat roof of the building some ways behind him. That’s when he sees him.  
  


It can’t be anyone else. He’s unmistakable.    
 

Ichigo watches, one minute there’s nothing, and the next, he can discern him from the surroundings, blending in so well it’s as if he’s part of the forest, the harsh stripes of sunlight and grass.

He comes to a stop as Renji comes out of the woods some hundred yards from him and stands on the edge of the treeline, bare and glowing in the sunshine. Ichigo’s heart begins to pound, lips parting, breath carried away on the wind.

He’s beautiful. He’s so perfect.

They’re too far apart from each other for Ichigo to really see his face, to see if Renji recognizes him — the thought comes to him that Renji might not even _want_ to see him after everything that had happened — but after a few seconds of just standing there, Renji’s off in a flash, running towards him so fast it made Ichigo gasp, the speed of it spurring him onto all fours as he rips himself forward.

Something like alarm shoots through him, and even though it never crossed his mind that Renji would attack him, his brain switches off in that moment, and he instinctively puts his foot back to flee—

Renji crosses the distance so quickly that Ichigo’s not ready for it when he tackles him, knocking the wind clean out of him as he was sent flat onto his back with a rough jolt, skidding some ways backwards in the dirt — it’s frightening in any circumstance, to be pounced on like a mouse, to be pressed into the ground by a predator in the prime of life, heavy with muscle, _their big face right up against yours—_

“Ichigo!” Renji called joyfully, hugging him with zeal, and the second Ichigo shakes off the blow of being slammed into the ground like that, he wrapped his arms around Renji’s shoulders too.

Renji can’t sit still, wrestling him in the grass, tossing wildly and flinging him around, dragging him roughly like he doesn’t weigh a thing. Ichigo just holds on, heart hammering frantically in his chest, because Renji would never mean to hurt him, but he’s so much stronger— “Whoa, hey,” he gasps, “I missed you too!”

At last Renji’s initial burst of joy at seeing him again seems to wear itself out and they settle on the ground. He keeps holding onto Ichigo, arms squeezing around his shoulders and head locked against his in a tight hug.    
  


“Ichigo.”  It’s almost a whimper — this small fragile thing.     _‘You came.’_  
  


He only gets out his name, but he says so much with it that Ichigo almost can’t contain it, Renji’s disbelief that he’s really here, he’d thought Ichigo wouldn’t come back for him, that they’d never see each other again, he’d missed him so much, how is he here, _you really came for me?_

“Yeah, I came, I’m here!” Ichigo breathed, so hyped up at being with him, he’s waited so long for this day, he feels a little crazy he’s so happy.  “I missed you, buddy.” He can’t stop smiling. “Renji! Aw— Renjiii,” he laughs, ruffling his hair and playing with his face. Renji laughs back, hugging him again.

Renji looked well taken care of. He’d obviously been getting plenty of food and sunshine. He’s a little dirty from being outside and from tumbling on the ground with him just now, but he’s tied his bangs back in a careful knot, his hair and face and hands are clean, and Ichigo can’t see his ribs at all, his torso filled out with gleaming muscle and fat. He’s in excellent health.

His coat has changed color, the gold having darkened to a rich orange as his skin has tanned. He looks like a real tiger.

Now that Ichigo’s looking, he can see the places where he’d been struck with the bullets last year. All that lingers are shiny pink patches, some rough scar tissue in one place where two wounds had been particularly close together. He’s healed well.

As his gaze trails upwards, finally meeting Renji’s, he sees that the bloody orange color, when met with the sunlight of the outdoors, it’s a brilliant gold. Staring back into his face, Renji glows with happiness.  
  


Ichigo looks down as Renji’s hand slips into his, closing around it and tentatively pulling — _‘Come on.’  
_  

He stands up, and Renji leads him one step, then another. Ichigo shed his protective padding one-handed, drops the emergency alarm device, follows Renji as he takes him deep into the woods.

Renji urges him faster and faster, _follow me, follow me,_ into the trees, up and down the unforgiving bends of the glens until they’re racing through the grass at a dead-run under the open sky.

They run together until Ichigo’s gasping and _heaving_ and he thinks he’ll collapse, head pounding, body tingling with a strange mix of nausea and euphoria. Renji slows so he can keep up, and after a rest, he urges Ichigo to continue, leading him into a patch of woods, the grass beneath lit a bright green as the sun comes through the canopy of leaves above.

Renji shows Ichigo some good trees, ones that he’s clearly scratched up to mark as his own. “Hm,” Ichigo remarks, still very winded, and stands there panting as Renji pulls himself up in the next second.

Despite his significant weight, he climbs with ease, scaling the trunk and perching on a thick branch, leg dangling below. Ichigo craned his neck to keep sight of him up there. Peeking out over the edge, Renji looks at him, waiting, then makes a hand motion — _‘Come on.’_

Ichigo knows there’s no point, but he kicks his boots off and grapples the trunk, digging his fingernails in and bracing the pads of his feet — but all he can achieve is scraping the skin off his hands. If he gets a running start and leaps, he can make it up a few feet, but can’t maintain it.

Renji watches him for some time, tail flicking in amusement, and he eventually laughs aloud at his pitiful climbing. Ichigo grimaces, glaring up at him. “Quit bragging!” he called, but can’t stop a laugh of his own. Renji comes down to him and crouches, glancing over his shoulder.

“What, really?” Renji flashes a grin, and Ichigo gets onto his back, holding on as Renji carries him up to the top.

Elated, Ichigo lets out a breathless laugh as he feels Renji’s back working, pulling them higher, watches as his thick nails dig into the tree bark and hook on to help him climb. He stops where the primary branches diverge from the trunk, leaving a large spot flat enough for them both to come to rest.

Renji helps him off, careful not to let go of him until he’s sure Ichigo won’t fall out. He climbs in after him, and for a moment they sit together and pant from exertion, smiling at each other. The canopy above shades their heads, speckles of sunlight poking through, and when Ichigo looks up, every leaf is aglow, bright yellow green with the sun.

Brushing a twig aside and scooting closer, Ichigo sighs, feeling at home somehow, way up here, where the world can’t reach the two of them. Renji gazes at him through the leaves, one with the blotches of shadow and sunlight painting his skin. His smile has faded, eyes sparkling.

He slowly put his hands up to Ichigo’s head, framing his face. “Ichigo,” he murmurs, holding him, palms pressed to his cheeks.  “Ichigo.”

His heart is on fire, heavy and full to bursting, aching as the seams split and everything leaks out — pain, longing, passion.

_Love._  
  


Ichigo smiles as Renji’s thumbs smooth along his face affectionately. There’s so much emotion in his expression, his eyes deep and sorrowful as they gaze upon him— _animals don’t feel love,_ but Renji’s not an animal, and Ichigo can see it on his face.

“I love you,” he says, whispers it and smiles as the wind blows and the tree rustles around them, sheltering them from the outside world.

Renji doesn’t react immediately, lips parted, but after a few moments he swallows and takes a hand away from Ichigo’s face — brings his fingertips to his chest hesitantly.   

_‘Me?’_

 

“Yeah,” Ichigo huffed, “Stupid tiger.”  
  


Renji blinks rapidly for a second, and then, as if it takes him great focus and care, very deliberately says, “And I love you.” His voice deep and rich, it’s the most he’s said at one time and it hangs there in the air, a living thing.

His heart clenches and _bleeds,_ a sweet pang inside him, a fist in his chest ever squeezing. Ichigo smiles, content to let Renji hold his face in his palms.

“Stay,” Renji says, and leans in to brush their noses together.

Then he kisses him — in the human way, very precisely pressing his lips to his. Ichigo closes his eyes and kisses him back, sealing their mouths together. Renji heaves a great sigh, melting against him, his tentative gestures coming more naturally.

When they break away, Ichigo touches his tongue to Renji’s cheek. It’s meant as a joke, but Renji looks so absurdly pleased, squirming around bashfully, that Ichigo tries his best to smother his laughter.

Renji jumps from the tree in a wild leap and lands easily, light on his feet. Ichigo takes his time in grappling a branch and hanging from his hands, drops heavily, lands on his feet and then stumbles backwards onto his butt. The bones in his legs and feet ache and sting, and his hands are scraped by twigs. Renji peeks at him, tail up, curious and concerned, and then butts his head against Ichigo’s affectionately.

He takes him by the hand until he stands up, and then they walk together aimlessly under the wide open sky, through the hills, sloping and rolling gently, lush with tall grass.

Renji rubs on him as they walk together, snorting and purring, keeps trying to touch him, to kiss and lick his face. He’s so persistent about it that at last Ichigo comes to a stop and opens his arms to him. Renji immediately latches on, nose tucked into the side of his neck.

Ichigo embraces him in return, breath coming heavy and hot. Renji pants against his jugular, digging his hands into his sides, squeezing, gripping his flesh. Ichigo let himself be manhandled, closing his eyes.

Renji hugs him from behind, seals himself against his back, pressing his body against him desperately. “Ichigo,” he gasps. “Ichigo…”

He let Renji lower them to the ground, flattening a patch of grass. Renji is shuddering for breath, getting on top of him, panting and holding him tightly against him. “Ichigo,” he breathes, _pleads._

“Hey,” Ichigo gasped, squirming, fighting to push himself up on one elbow, then the other. Renji’s heavy, and _strong,_ and it’s hard to even move because he’s squeezing so viciously tight, pinning him to the ground as he curls his hips against his back. “Hey—”  He tried to extract himself, wiggling one inch out from under him.

Renji is reluctant to let him go, frowning miserably. “Please—” He loosens his grip with some reluctance. “Please,” he begs, pitiful, like he thinks Ichigo isn’t going to let him, is going to reject him — but he lets go, slowly, his touch lingering as Ichigo slides out of his grip.

Ichigo turns around to face him and puts his arms around him, meaning to lay down in the grass with him — Renji lets him go again, and for a second he looks lost, like he’d been running on instinct until now and doesn’t know what to do otherwise.

He awkwardly sat back on his haunches as Ichigo opened his belt and kicked his pants down. He hurries, focuses on what he’s doing so that he can’t feel embarrassed at being watched — Renji’s gaze is so visceral, _hungry,_  a physical thing, running over him like hot hands.

He arranges his shirt beneath him. It’s weird to be naked outside, there’s still a lingering sense of shame to be like this out in the open, afraid to be caught this way, but it’s just the two of them and the open sky, nothing and no one else for miles, the wind rustling through the tall grass, the sun shining down on his bare skin. He shouldn’t feel embarrassed, not when he barely even flinches at Renji's nudity.

His breaths are thick and lusty as he looks at Ichigo, he keeps fidgeting eagerly, reaching a hand out to touch him. He smooths his palm along his leg longingly.

Ichigo opens his arms to him, pants, “What are you waiting for?”

Renji shuffled closer like he didn’t know how to engage him from the front, and eventually lowered himself down on top of him, between his spread legs, and Ichigo embraced him, kissed him, his lips, his cheek, tucking his head against his neck as their bare skin comes together.

Renji takes a couple seconds to ease into it, but gets the idea pretty quickly once Ichigo wraps his legs around his hips, lining them up. He presses and grinds against him eagerly, as if it had never occurred to him that they could face each other and is excited with the idea. He holds on tight, arms around him, and Ichigo can feel his excitement, hot and hard between them.

Renji’s cock juts against him, pressing fruitlessly between his legs where they’re both tender and aching — he struggles in frustration, picking his head up frequently, as if he expects it to go in on its own. Ichigo put a hand between them and Renji gasped, stilled, panting in surprise as Ichigo felt around, then brought Renji’s hand down to touch him too.

He spat onto his hand to wet himself enough to ease his fingers in, guiding Renji’s hand alongside his so he can feel what he is doing. Ichigo rolls them to the side, breath heavy as he pushes and presses inside. Fascinated, Renji smooths his hand next to his, pulling back to watch what he does.

Catching on fast, Renji licks his own hand with the flat of his tongue and, knowing well enough not to insert his fingers with nails like those, gently strokes Ichigo between his legs until Ichigo’s feeling brave enough to try it, urging Renji to get on top of him.

He reaches between them, using his hand to guide Renji forward. Renji’s saliva is thick and viscous, just enough lubrication that his cock can be made to fit inside, the skin catching and dragging as he pushes the rest of the way in, and once he is, he clings to Ichigo immediately, arms around him as they move together, his gasps warm and thick in his ear.

“Ichigo,” he murmured breathlessly, lips caressing Ichigo’s cheek, his ear. Renji keeps their faces pressed together, keeps him close to him — and the thought comes to Ichigo that this has to be the first time Renji’s done it because he wanted to, the first time it’s not some innate animalistic drive, but a human need to bond and share intimacy.

Ichigo holds onto him — kisses him, breathes his name, cups his face in his hands, to let him know he’s there in the moment with him, knows what this is—

Renji doesn’t seem to know his way about — not other than thrusting with the only intent of getting himself off, so Ichigo shows him how to caress him, how to lay under the sun and kiss leisurely, pleasure each other and drag it out—

He gives in eventually when Renji begins to keen and clench up, the muscles in his shoulders and back and jaw straining with the effort of going slow and holding back. He holds on as Renji thrusts harshly in the last moments, a cry that rips from his throat, at once human and then cutting off in a growl — Ichigo is thrown into a whirlwind, frightened and thrilled so much that he’s brought to climax.

Pressing deep inside before letting loose, Renji groaned and bared his jaws, pressing the flats of his teeth against his neck and panting heavily, suffering with the urge to bite down into his throat and hold him still — still trembling with aftershocks, Ichigo pants and lays there as Renji shudders above him, squeezing him so hard that his joints ache. His cock pulses inside of him as he cums, a hot thick burst.

Ichigo smoothed his hands down Renji’s slick sweaty back, gasping as he came down from his high. Renji stays inside, groans and puts his teeth away, resting his head next to Ichigo’s with a long sigh.

Once his heart begins to slow and his blood cools, he tried to separate them, but Renji held him still. A grunt and a choked-off whimper rising out of his throat, he grabs Ichigo by the hips and keeps him there. Panting and embracing each other, they stay connected until Renji has gone soft, at which point he carefully retracts.

Afterwards, they lay there together, dozing in the tall grass under the gentle sunshine. Renji holds him in his arms, grooming him by licking his hair repeatedly, smoothing it back with a rough flat tongue, dragging Ichigo’s head a little bit each time. Ichigo’s eyes are closed peacefully, hand coming to rest after roving Renji’s chest aimlessly.

They stay together a long time, until the sun is setting. Anxious to please him, Renji has fixed a nest in the grass, perhaps hoping he will lay down next to him and spend the night. He can’t, of course.

When Ichigo puts his clothes back on many hours later, Renji begins to cling onto him, hold him, wrap around him, as if knowing Ichigo is going to go, is getting ready to go back to the real world, to human life.

“I have to go,” Ichigo tells him, watches Renji’s face drop in despair, crestfallen. His grip tightens. Ichigo smooths a hand over his head, petting his hand lovingly. “But I’m gonna’ come back,” he says firmly.

Swallowing hard, Renji makes a handshake motion questioningly.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “I promise.”

His eyes are so wide and vulnerable, trusting and _nervous,_ and Ichigo knows that he has to come back, has to drag himself back here even if he loses his legs because he can’t break that trust, can’t break that delicate fragile thing sparkling in Renji’s gaze.

“It won’t be long now. I’m almost ready. I'm trying to get permission to take you back with me.” Renji's ears go straight up, nose twitching.

If everything keeps going as smoothly as it has until now, soon he'll be able to take Renji away from here. But it comes to him then that maybe it isn't right. He seems so content, living wild in the glens. He seems so natural. Maybe Renji wouldn't want to leave. It had even crossed his mind that he might hate Ichigo after this long apart. To Renji, maybe it had seemed like Ichigo had abandoned him, ten long months without knowing what had happened.

"If you'd even want to." 

Renji eagerly puts his hands to his chest and then Ichigo's. He grabs Ichigo's hands and brings them to his heart.  _'Me and you  — I want to be with you. I don't want to be apart from you—'_

Ichigo smiles. "Sorry it's taken so long. But you won't have to wait much more."

  
He’s almost through getting specially licensed to be Renji’s legal caregiver and companion. He’ll be able to visit more in these last weeks, and soon he’ll be able to take him away from here — _home._

Part of the process is that Ichigo has been volunteering at a smaller government-run shelter back in Japan. Most of the bureaucracy of it has been sped through because they've been able to claim that Ichigo has prior experience. Otherwise it would've been impossible to get his credentials in under a year's time. However Grimmjow had pulled that one off, he doesn't care.

He’s been working with housecat neko, learning from a professional caretaker how to handle and interact with them. It’s a lot of work. A lot of it is nonsense, considering this isn’t how he and Renji are together, because he can just _talk_ to Renji and ask him questions instead of trying to figure out what’s wrong with him like he would with a regular dog or cat. It doesn’t matter though, whatever he has to do, whatever hoops he has to jump through to prove to the state that he’s competent enough to be permanently assigned to an exotic animal, he’ll do it.

A lot of it is due to Grimmjow pulling strings, because those Scandinavian sanctuaries don’t operate this way usually. They don’t re-release animals that have been turned over to them, but Grimmjow’s got some sort of agreement worked out, and has told Ichigo that if he can demonstrate that Renji had gotten attached to him during the rescue operation, they’ll be willing to consider sending him back, especially if he can get his license and prove he can keep him in excellent care. He’ll be under observation, but they’ll give Renji to him.

They’ll have to answer to the Japanese government too, go in for official checks, take Renji to a special dentist that knows how to care for him, and to a doctor for examinations to assess his health and to survey him for any signs of abuse. He'll have to prove that his home security is up to par when it comes to sheltering such a valuable creature from whoever might wish him harm or to acquire and exploit him again.

Ichigo will have to report any injuries, any incidences of aggression, and he’ll have to go in with Renji occasionally to confirm before examiners that he can still handle Renji appropriately. It’ll be a piece of cake, considering, again, that Ichigo can just talk to Renji and tell him beforehand what’s going on and what they need to do — it’s not going to be this long drawn-out process in which Ichigo will have to train a response from him like he would with a dog. From what he understands, he has to prove that he can keep Renji calm even when Renji is put under different types of stressors, they’ll try to scare and threaten him in different ways, even expose him to small amounts of pain, and see if Ichigo can keep him calm.

It seems cruel, but Ichigo understands it’s because they don’t know Renji, they don’t know how gentle he is, they don't know about his intelligence or sensitivity, they have to view him as a beast with the capability of being used as a weapon, jaws that can crush a human skull, claws that can kill a child. It’s a similar process the courts go through when assessing whether an owner can handle a previously aggressive dog or if it needs to be put down for the public safety.

It's a load of difficult and tedious stuff to work through, but it's all going to be worth it, because when they’re finally together, it’s not going to be like it was before. Renji’s life will be immeasurably better. Ichigo won’t have to hide him inside the apartment constantly. Rukia will be able to visit at any time. Ichigo will even be able to take Renji outside into the open once he’s completed the training and sufficiently proved that he can _‘handle the animal.’_ He’ll officially be Renji’s guardian. Renji will be allowed outside as long as he’s with Ichigo. They can go to the park, he can take Renji swimming, can show him the city.

He’s done everything that was required of him down to the letter. He’s changed apartments to one that was sanctioned and okayed for housing a neko, he’s formally notified every one of his neighbors that he’s petitioning to become caretaker to a neko, so no one will be alarmed at Renji taking up residence there. He doesn’t want to scare any old ladies if he sends Renji out and lets him do some gardening, or to take out the garbage. If they all know who Renji is and know that he’s friendly, it could turn out to be quite a nice arrangement.

Everything’s ready and waiting for Renji to get there. He’s got a wardrobe of clothes picked out for him, some pairs of shoes, a hole sewn carefully into the seat of each pair of pants, personal care items like a deodorant stick, face wash and washcloth, hair bands and a brush, toothbrush and floss, going through everything he has himself and getting Renji one of his own. He’ll take him shopping for more individual items of his own choosing once he’s there.

He has plans to teach him to read and write, because he wants to give Renji that independence — he imagines that will take a lot of time, considering those were skills best learned when young, when the mind is flexible, but he’s sure Renji can learn. He’ll start small, letting him begin with the basics that are taught to elementary school children, and he’ll show him how to write his name.

He’s confident that he can even coax Renji to begin talking more, that if he interacts with him and with other enough, he will start to come out of his shell, will try to speak aloud, because he learns by copying, and one thing humans do a lot is _talk._ He wants to give him as much autonomy as possible, familiarize him with the neighbors so that he can go outside, maybe even make friends, meet and learn from others.

He’s ready to introduce Renji to the whole world, acclimate him to adult human life — television, music, alcohol, taking the train, using money, riding a bicycle, all the things he’s taken for granted that Renji still got to discover with completely new eyes.

 _‘I have so much to show you,’_ he thinks, _‘I’m gonna’ show you how to cook, I’m gonna’ teach you to read, we’re gonna’ get a cat and take care of that pet together_ — _you and me are gonna’ sleep in the same bed together and I’m gonna’ show you all the ways we can make love. You’re going to learn so much that you and me’ll be the same. You’ll be free, and it’ll be amazing, watching you fly.’_

Despite Ichigo’s best efforts, he knows there will always be some things that Renji will never be allowed to do. They’ll always have to go report to the state and put on this act that they are an animal and its caretaker, even if Renji is a human at home. Even if they’re roommates and lovers every other day of their lives, they will always have to suffer that indignity one more time. Renji will never receive a state ID card, will never be recognized as an individual any more than his chip number will be printed on paper, certifying that he is in Ichigo’s care. No matter how much he learns, how independent from Ichigo he becomes, he can never go to school, he can never get a job, can never drive, cannot get a bank account. He will always be dependent on Ichigo in those ways, but Ichigo is going to do his best to give him as normal a life as he can. He wants to help Renji need him as little as possible.

The first thing, once they’re together, he’s going to show Renji how to write his name. Since Ichigo’s never seen Renji’s name written down in any of his files, Ichigo had taken the liberty of picking out the kanji he’ll use to write his name. He’s always been kind of sentimental, so he’d gone ahead and chosen the character _love._

He’s going to show him how to write his name and he’s going to encourage him to talk a little more each day, so he can show the people around him how big his heart is, because he has so much to give.

“Once I wrap things up, you can come home,” he breathes. Renji touches Ichigo’s chest with his fingertips, then his own. “Yeah,” he says. “We're gonna’ be together.”

He put a hand up to Ichigo’s face and touched their foreheads together, and Ichigo sighs. This is a kiss, isn’t it — or something close to it.

 

His eyes flutter open to find Renji’s are gazing into his, deep golden animal eyes with no whites.

Funny though. He’s never really noticed, but the pupil isn’t a feline slit.   It’s round.

 

      Like a human's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANNOUNCEMENT
>
>> I'm sorry it took so long to finish this one, I've kind of been trying to delay the inevitable. Sadly, this will probably be my last renichi fic for a while. I don't know when or if the motivation is going to come back.
>> 
>> That's not to say I've stopped loving them as a pairing, but Bleach is over, and more and more people have left. There's not many people left to interact with. While there is a small bleach community alive on tumblr, I am literally the only renichi blog there, and it's been pretty lonely and discouraging three years, with most of my popular posts only recieving those notes because they've been picked up by ichihime, ichiruki, and grimmichi blogs.
>> 
>> I've hung on for about five years creating in a fandom that's just atrophied further and further. In fact, I'm surprised I kept the motivation up to stay in the pairing this long. Writing and drawing for renichi in the past year or so has started to become a source of frustration and disappointment. In short, branching out more has brought me back that excitement and joy of writing fics that's been draining away.
>> 
>> I don't want to sound like I'm going on a pity party and complaining about lack of reviews, because that's not what this is about. You guys _have_ left me meaningful reviews that have brightened my day and made me feel like what I'm doing matters. You guys have been great. It's because of you guys and your support that I've been able to keep going for this long.
>> 
>> So. Even though they're my all time favorite and they say to write for yourself, etc, I've hung on to these two since like 2010 and have been making art and fanfiction since like 2014, and it stinks to see how much the fandom and the ship itself has declined. It sucks to love what you're doing so much but feel like it's not worth doing, which has made me realize that I need to take a break before I lose my love for the pairing itself. Reading other people's renichi works, the few that there are, hasn't exactly helped me either. I don't mean to shit on my fellow fic writers, this is my personal opinion, but most of the other renichi content that's been made in the last couple years/months hasn't been... the best. The few good ones are the exception not the rule.
>> 
>> I've already accepted that renichi is just never going to get it's 2010 peak popularity back, and that however good the fic, it will never outshine grimmichi or byaren, or any of the endgame pairings for that matter. So my only option is to branch out.
>> 
>> In the last six months or so my time's been taken up writing for other fandoms. Anything I write for renichi in the future, if I do, will probably be much shorter and more of a fun side project. Relaxing a little and doing other things might help me to get some drive back. I have gotten a little bit of the spark back lately in the last couple weeks, which gave me the burst I needed to complete this, so hopefully in the new year I will at least make one or two renichi fics rather than abandoning them completely. I don't intend to give them up forever, but I definitely need to take an official break. In the meantime, I will continue curating my renichi doujinshi collection. (: 
>> 
>> Thank you for your faithful readership and support through the years, you guys don't know how much it's meant to me and how much encouragement it's given me to keep going. It's delayed this decision at least two years, and I want to say thank you for giving me that boost when I needed it.
>> 
>> \- much love, thank you. ♥


End file.
